


The Secret Life of Daydreams

by plinys



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-08
Updated: 2016-02-08
Packaged: 2018-05-05 14:50:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 27,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5379146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plinys/pseuds/plinys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As children Philip Hamilton and Theodosia Burr get off to a rough start, but years later when they meet again, something has changed. There's a spark between them, a spark which is threatened by their families' inevitable disapproval.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> A million thank yous to Beej for the beta and for letting me kinda yell this plot at her as I figured it out. Basically, I've been dying for a long af multi-chapter philtheo fic, and finally I just said, screw it and decided to write the thing myself. This is a work in progress so warning you now there may be some delays in fic updates especially with the holidays coming, but I am so amped up about this fic that they will hopefully come sooner than later.
> 
> Here is where I will put proper notes for this fic later/things you may want to know before getting into it -
> 
> 1: basically for the timeline I'm going with a weird mash up of musical and history while kinda being like "fuck it its my fic I can ignore that that happened" with other elements. So if something confuses you or you're like "wait but chronologically..." just like ignore that inner history nerd in you for the sake of the fic okay?
> 
> 2: To mash up the style of musical talking versus the actual way they would have talked back then, I'm having various levels of social standards when it comes to talking. Basically with strangers and in high society they talk kinda like people would've back then, but in casual setting its the modernized stuff that we loved from the musical, if that makes sense?
> 
> 3: idk man if you have questions like let me know and I'll answer them up here next time!

“Now remember, a lady must be-“

“Poised and polite, only speaking if spoken to, with a smile on her face as she intently listens,” Theodosia finishes with ease and  a small grin on her face, which mirrors the one almost always adorning her father’s face.

She’s not entirely certain how he can smile so long and never have his cheeks hurt. Theodosia’s tried plenty of times but hers can usually only last an hour before she has to take a moment to relax her features. She would ask but it would be a useless endeavor since she was certain the only advice her father would give her would be to practice more.

Practice makes perfect was one of his favorite sayings.

Then again, her father had a lot of favorite sayings.

“Now remember, we’re going over to the Hamiltons, and they are,” at this her father pauses, his eyes flickering briefly over to where her mother sits in the carriage beside him before he continues, “Poor mannered.”

“If they have poor manners then why must we go? Surely, we could spare ourselves the terrible company?”

There’s a light laugh from her mother, “Because, dearest, your father is old war buddies with this poor man, and men tend to be sentimental old fools.”

“How dull,” Theodosia remarks plainly.

Which gains another one of her mother’s laughs, before she reaches out to fix Theodosia’s dress for the tenth time since they’d gotten into the carriage.

“Do be sure to tell them that when we arrive, dearest.”

Only for her father to say, “Do not,” a second later.

Mother does that sometimes, teasing father just ever so slightly to watch him get riled up. He never gets too much, not like other men do, but sometimes he will lose his smile for a moment, before gaining it back when he realizes he’s being teased. She likes it when her father’s smiles are real, though she pretends she can’t tell the real ones apart from the fake ones.

The carriage comes to a stop before her father can pick up his lecture again and Theodosia cannot help but let out a small sigh of relief. One that she silently hopes neither of her parents will have noticed.

Thankfully they’re both too busy exiting the carriage to have noticed her noises.

Upon stepping outside she is greeted by the sight of a house, not too different from her own. In fact, Theodosia was certain that she had walked past this very home on her strolls with mother. Which made her briefly wonder why they had taken the carriage at all, if the Hamiltons were only a walk away.

Her thoughts of carriages were momentarily forgotten though as she notices the family gathered before her. She knows Mr. Hamilton, of course. She’d met him a few times before when he had called upon her father to discuss legal matters. The beautiful woman next to him was obviously Mrs. Hamilton. And then beside her stood their children.

The only reason she had been invited along with her parents to dinner was because the Hamiltons had children as well. Three of them from what her father had told her, though one was just a baby and wouldn’t be joining them. However it was the other two, both within a year of her age, that had Theodosia excited- or more specifically their daughter.

It wasn’t often that she was able to interact with other young girls her age. Though she often begged her mother to introduce her to other young ladies her mother always insisted that there would be time for that later, and that instead she ought to be focusing on her studies. While most other young girls were learning needlepoint or to draw, Theodosia was digging through heavy volumes of Latin and Greek.  

She supposed it was sort of fun, or at least interesting, though nothing could compare to the excitement of meeting other children.

Her father’s voice, startles her out of her thoughts, and Theodosia makes certainly to quickly curtsy before her new acquaintances before flashing them a bright smile.

Oddly enough the two young Hamiltons do not return her smile.

“I see somebody got the talk less, smile more lecture down.”

Her cheeks flush with momentary embarrassment, luckily her dark complexion hides it well, her smile faltering. Though it is her father who speaks up admonishing their host for being terribly rude.

“Pops is right,” the boy in front of her says - Philip, her mind prompts - “You don’t have to fake it. Bet you’re probably bored stiff, yeah?”

Her nose wrinkles at his informal manner of speaking, but when she glances to the side where his sister, Angelica, the girl that Theodosia had hoped could be a peer of hers stands, she can see instantly that Angelica feels the same as her brother.

“Philip, Angelica, why don’t you take Miss Burr on a tour of the house,” Mrs. Hamilton says.

Theodosia knows it's just an excuse to get her and the other children out of the way before their fathers start debating. Still she’s not going to miss a chance for quality bonding time. Which was why, after casting a quick glance at her mother to make certain that she approved, Theodosia allowed herself to be led on a tour by Philip and Angelica.

Angelica took the lead, as any proper hostess should. Showing Theodosia the parlor, the library, the sitting room, even her father’s office though Angelica dare not open the door. All while Philip trailed behind them making disgruntled comments that Theodosia did her best to ignore as she focused on Angelica words.

“And this,” Angelica says, with a flourish, “Is there kitchen, it’s where mom cooks like everything we could ever want to eat. Also sometimes she lets me make cookies and-”

“Don’t you have someone who cooks for you,” Theodosia cuts them off, looking around the small kitchen.

She could never imagine her mother in a place like this. Theodosia wasn’t even entirely certain her mother knew how to cook, surely she must have learned at some point, but she’d never taught Theodosia how to and anyways they had Mabel  who knew how to cook everything.

Angelica hasn’t said anything in response, and when Theodosia looks over at them there’s a cold look on both her and her brother’s face. Before finally Philip says, “We don’t keep slaves.”

“You could have a paid cook,” Theodosia insists quickly. Even though she was certain her parents didn’t pay Mabel. Perhaps she should ask her mother about that.

“Don’t you think it’s a little fucked-”

“Philip,” Angelica says, scandalized, clamping a hand over her brother’s mouth. “Daddy said not to cuss in front of the Burrs remember.”

“It’s not proper,” Theodosia says, reflexively.

Which earns her the condescending snort of a nine year old in reply. Philip rolling his eyes so much that it almost looks painful.

“Philip don’t,” Angelica warns, before giving Theodosia a nervous grin. It’s obviously faked, but Theodosia tries not to let it bother her too much. Especially not since a second later Angelica says, “Anyways, I brought you in here because mom make cookies earlier which means we can probably sneak one before dinner.”

Sure enough no sooner had Angelica said the word before she hopped up onto a stool near the counter, her skirts ruffling around her, until she proudly held three cookies in her hand. One she kept for herself, one she gave to her brother, and one was eagerly pressed into Theodosia’s hand.

It did look delicious, and smelled like chocolate.

“We shouldn’t,” Theodosia says, looking down at the cookie. “We’ll ruin our appetites, it would be terribly rude to eat dessert before dinner."

“Daddy was right about you,” Philip says, after a brief moment of stunned silence, and Theodosia had just about had her fill of Philip Hamilton.

So she cannot help herself from smarting back at him. The cookie she was holding momentarily forgotten as she abandoned her manners to ask, “And what exactly did he say about me?”

Philip’s shrug is almost as annoying as his condescending tone. “That you don’t know how to have fun.”

“I know plenty about fun.”

“Oh yeah, prove it.”

Distantly she remembers one of her father’s many lessons, about not rising to the bait of others, that sometimes time best road to take is the middle one. Which is why instead of giving into what he asks, she takes a deep breath and counts backwards from ten.

It’s only once she’s reached the bottom that she speaks up. Adopting the same tone that she has heard her father use as he practices his legal drafts.

“I don’t need to prove anything to you, Philip Hamilton, because you are without a doubt the rudest excuse for a human being that I have ever had the misfortune to meet. And my father was right about you, for you have the worst manners I have ever seen.”

 

 


	2. Chapter One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, before we get going. The main plot of this story (minus the prologue obviously) takes place during the period of time in the musical from "reynolds pamphlet"/"burn" to "blow us all away" that canon diverges. Now because musical and real history (canon?) timelines are a bit messed up you're just going to have to like, suspend your knowledge of history when it comes to the timeline of certain events and go with the flow, okay?"

Philip has had more than his fair share of rude awakenings, especially as of late, but he never thought the traitor who pulled his blankets off would be none other than his own brother. He’s not sure what time it is, though the bunks were empty, and the sun was clearly out.

Still he did his best to glare at Alex and attempt to wrangle his blanket back from the twelve year old with little success.

As it was saying, “What the fuck,” seems to be entirely appropriate response.

“Its midday get up.”

“I finished my exams, and pops isn’t coming to pick us up until tomorrow which means-”

“Senator Burr is hosting a ball, it would be a good way to make connections for college,” Alex says, cutting him off. “I’m too young to attend, apparently.” Philip doesn’t have to look at his brother to know that Alex is displeased by this insistence. Alex may have been years younger than Philip but he was certainly more mature. “However, you are not, which means you’re going to go and make good connections while I sit here bored out of my mind and recite poetry.”

“I like poetry,” Philip says, which earns him a swat from Alex in return.

Little brothers were pests. He can’t believe he ever told his father that he wanted one. Alex was bad enough - but the thought of going home where there would be three other little brothers clamouring for his attention… Then again, the thought of going home in general wasn’t a good one.

From what Angelica had said his parents weren’t even talking, well pops was trying, but mom had all but kicked him out of the house; Philip couldn’t blame her. He’d had enough incidents of his classmates thrusting that pamphlet in his face that he had nearly considered not coming home.

One of his schoolmates had offered to let Philip stay with his family for the summer but Alex had sworn never to speak to him again if Philip made him go home, to what was surely a disaster, without him.

Of course, had Alex been not speaking to him then perhaps Philip could’ve gotten a few extra hours of sleep.

“You sure you couldn’t just go in my place,” Philip says in one last ditch attempt, “I mean we look similar enough, you could just go to the ball while I-”

“Get up. Now.”

\---

It wasn’t that Philip hated formal events. It was just that - _Philip hated formal events_.

He’d been dragged along on enough of them growing up - dinner’s at the president’s house, holiday festivities, balls for just about every new bill being passed (which was always a reason for celebration in this new nation) - that he’d gotten sick of them. Every one of these events were just like the millions of other before them. He put on something nice, ask a few lovely ladies to dance, talk politics and law with the other boys his age, and try not to make his boredom so obvious that others would point it out.

A task which was usually quite difficult to manage.

Tonight perhaps even more so because not only was this the epitome of boring social event, but it was a boring social event at the Burr’s.

Which meant it was guaranteed to be exceedingly dull. Truth be told, Philip didn’t know much about the man. He was a senator (the one who had stolen grandfather’s senate seat away), he gave extremely boring guest lectures from time to time at St. Michael’s, and from all accounts his father had given Senator Burr was the literal definition of _one which has a_ _stick up the ass_.

“Hey Greene,” Philip asks one of his fellow schoolmates, “How much longer do you think we have to stay here before it’s polite to leave?”

Greene gives him the queerest look in reply, as if to say _‘why would you want to leave’,_ before asking, “Had your fill the ladies already? I thought by now you would’ve convinced one of them to sneak off and offer you their virtue.”

It’s a joke, one that gets the rest of their little group laughing. Philip just rolls his eyes, “Oh ha ha, very funny, but I’m afraid the ladies will just have to find other ways to satisfy themselves tonight.”

His innuendo, coupled with a wiggle of his eyebrows, sets the group off again and Philip takes the brief pause in their attentions to survey the room. His friends had a point, usually even though Philip got bored of these dances far too easily he would be out on the floor trying to charm some lady to slip away with him.

But ever since the pamphlet…

He could see the looks in their eyes when he introduced himself, like everyone knew instantly who he was. Pity was the worst look to receive from a lady, which was why he had mostly been avoiding focusing on the fine ladies who hovered at the edge of the dance floor, looking longingly at the groups of students as though their sweet gazes could tempt a man to come forth.

“Honestly, there’s not one maiden who-”

It’s there that he sees her, looking like something out of a dream or perhaps a memory.

Her dark skin, contrasted by the pale blue dress. There’s something about the way the candle light hits her face, the light shining through her curls and making her dark eyes glint with a hint of mischief as they meet across the the dance floor. She smiles at him then, her painted lips stretched up over pearly white teeth, and suddenly he can put a name to the face.

“Theodosia Burr,” he says, with certainty. Though he has not seen her in years he knows at once that surely that is who must be before him. He had seen her in passing a few times, brief occasions, but never stopping to speak to her. Surely the last time they had spoken they had been naught more than children.

The Burrs had been frequent visitors of their family, before her father had stolen grandfather’s senate seat away by switching parties like a spineless bastard (to quote his father).

“Try not to deflower our host's daughter,” Greene says, suddenly snapping Philip’s attention away from Theodosia so that he can glare at his friend. “It’d be poor manners.”

“Fuck manners,” Philip mutters under his breath, making sure to shoot the rest of his schoolmates a rude gesture before slipping through the crowd. Heading like a man on a mission towards the one person at this ball that might actually hold a shred of interest for him.

He watches as she steps away from her friends, sweet young women who give him briefly disdainful looks as though he is to blame for some perceived wrong. He gives them a cocksure smile which is predictably ignored before turning to Theodosia.

For a second, neither of them say anything, simply watching each other. He wonders what she must think of it, if she recognizes him after all these years as he had so easily recognized her.

Though his answer comes soon enough, as she speaks, her voice a soft lilt, “Philip Hamilton, I had not expected to see you here.”

“I would say the same, but I realize now that this is your home and I ought to have made the connection beforehand.”

She smiles at that. This smile looking more sincere than the one that had been there a moment before, though with her it is hard to tell. It was as his pops had always said, the Burrs fake their emotions to seem normal. She may have been beautiful but he must remember that that was only skin deep.

“I suppose the famed Hamilton intellect must not have been passed down to you.”

Even her insults are wrapped in such a way as to almost seem polite. It’s a delicate skill. He cannot help but think that she would make a good lawyer were she not a woman.

“Alas, tis my greatest misfortune,” he replies, with a joke of his own.

She seems pleasantly surprised by his willingness to play along and as a lull in the musical arises it is Theodosia who takes the lead saying simply, “I assume you wished to honor your hostess with a dance?”

“It would be my pleasure,” he replies, taking her hand and leading her out onto the dance floor.

Polite society demands pleasant conversation during dancing, perhaps a remark upon the weather or the kindness of their host, but one of them seems to be far too strong of flattery and the other - well Philip has never much cared for talk of the weather.

Which is why he usually choose to flirt with his partner, tell them of their beauty, recite a love poem certain to make them weak at the knees, but with Theodosia it’s different. She’s beautiful, such that Philip’s breath is stolen away with each glance of her that he takes. Instinctively he knows that his usual lines will not work on her, surely a woman as beautiful as the one before him has long since quoted all of the best literary minds can offer.

“I’ve never known a Hamilton to be this quiet,” Theodosia says, catching his eye.

Defensively he quickly says, “I’m not my father.” Four words that he’s been saying far too often lately. “Not that my father is a bad man, he just-”

“Philip, it’s fine,” Theodosia cuts him off, “You don’t have to explain anything to me, I was just making small talk?”

“Oh right.” He nods his head awkwardly, “So, the weather?”

“No, don’t you dare.”

“Pardon?”

“Philip Hamilton, I picked you to dance with because I thought you would be the _one_ person not to remark upon the weather, but if you do I swear, I will leave you this instant.”

“Don’t leave me,” he replies, with a light laugh.

For some reason, the smile always on Theodosia’s face seems more real in that moment. An earnest happy thing that makes him think of goddesses - his fingers instinctively itch for a pen to begin transcribing verse in honor of that look on her face.

“This coming from the man who had been minutes away from leaving my own party.”

Philip cannot help but still in surprise at her words, stumbling a bit through the steps, but Theodosia continues the dance, helping him through his blunder all while acting as though nothing had happened.

“There is no way you could have heard that?”

“Your face gives you all away,” Theodosia insists, “And, I have gotten quite well at reading lips. It’s one of my many skills.”

“And you are clearly an accomplished lady.”

“All ladies ought to be accomplished.”

“Your father tell you that,” Philip asks, before he can think to censure himself. Just like that the earnest smile she had been giving him falters back into the polite and practiced one of a politician. “I didn’t mean - tell me of your accomplishments.”

“Perhaps another time,” she says instead. Stepping away from him, just as the music dies down around them. He barely remembers to applaud the band, his eyes locked onto Theodosia.

Who is this woman that stands before him?

“Dance with me again,” he says, when the clapping finally stops.

“I’m sorry, I need to be a good hostess,” she replies with a shake of your head.

“Surely your mother could handle things for a few moments.”

He’s not certain if he’s ever seen Theodosia look sad. If he has ever seen anything but that practiced smile on her face. Even when she’d been angry with him as a boy, she had worn that tight smile, but now he sees it, a sudden look of sadness, marring her otherwise perfect features.

Saying, “Sorry,” doesn’t seem like enough.

“She passed years ago, it’s fine.”

“I’m an insensitive ass,” Philip corrects. “Give me a chance to make it up to you?”

“Stay at the party longer, maybe after I’ve visited with the others we could take a walk?”

“Nothing would make me happier.”

\---

Most of his schoolmates have long since ditched him, the party slowly dying down around them, without Theodosia having cast more than brief glances his way. Still, apparently his watch of her had not gone unnoticed.

At least, not judging by the expression on the face of the man standing before Philip.

"Senator Burr, sir."

The Senator gives him one more long scrutinizing look at that, before putting on a polite smile. "Ah yes, Mr.-"

"Hamilton, sir. Philip Hamilton," he supplies at Burr's hesitance. "We've met before, you're -" friends felt to strong of a word in this case, "You used to work with my father."

Burr nods at that. "My apologies for not recognizing you sooner. I'm surprised to see you here?"

Theodosia had said the same thing. He wondered if that was some trick of polite society that he'd never learned a way to say 'what the fuck are you doing here' while still maintaining the decorum of a sophisticated member of society.

"I just finished school at St. Michaels, some of the lads wanted to come up for the ball and here we are."

"I see," Burr replies after a moment's pause.

Though the Senators polite smile remains on his face Philip can instantly tell that something is wrong. It's an ever so subtle twitch of the eyebrow that clues Philip in.

Quickly before whatever he's said wrong can be pointed out Philip continues, "I will be starting at King’s College in the fall."

And just like that the tension seems gone. Crisis averted.

"Studying law I presume?"

"Yes, sir."

"Your father was once a rather good lawyer." The subtleties of the word ' _once_ ' is not entirely lost on Philip.

"Yes he is."

"Tell me, Mr. Hamilton will you be joining your father in the Capitol this summer or remaining in New York with your mother."

The clear reference to the distance he's heard of in his parents marriage leaves Philip stopped for once. Most of his friends had never been so subtle in bringing it up but Burr does so in a way that could almost seem like polite curiosity and not a jab.

With anyone else Philip might have believed it was just that but he had heard his father's stories about the Senator too many times to forget that the man before him was a good lawyer because he had a way of twisting words as though to show no personal preference or opinion.

Polite curiosity, as if.

"My parents are both in New York presently, I've heard no plans otherwise," Philip says stiffly.

Suddenly Burrs smile doesn't seem as polite as before.

"Ah, perhaps I am mistaken. Surely you know more about the inner workings of your family than I do.”

Philip had a lot more to say on that matter, words that were most certainly not the type of thing that ought to be said to a senator.

Thankfully he was saved from having to say anything more by the arrival of Theodosia.

The smile on her face is a mirror of the one on her father's. Though her eyes are not for Philip as he had hoped but instead directed to her father, whose arm she lays a delicate hand upon.

"Father come we must say goodbye to or guests."

"Of course, dearest." Burr replies, before giving a curt nod in Philips direction and leading his daughter away.

For some reason the dismissal stings. He is not entirely certain why he had desired Burrs approval- this man whom his father had spoken poorly of more often than not. Yet for some reason he had craved it, and felt embarrassed that he had been giving nothing but a short nod in the end.

Perhaps Theodosia was to blame for that. Her beauty had distracted him, made Philip crave her approval and thus in return the approval of her father.

Whatever the case was it left Philip feeling off, which was why he made his exit from the Burrs home without giving a polite farewell.

\---

Alex is waiting for him when he returns to the dormitories, reclining upon Philips bunk with a book and candle light to keep him company.

"Do you ever sleep?"

"Not if I can help it," Alex replies easily, closing the book with a snap as Philip worked to remove his young brother from the bed. "How was the ball?"

"Awful."

It's too dark to see if Alex rolls his eyes but Philip knows that he must have.

"Were you at least polite?"

"I stayed longer than I would've liked, does that count?"

After a moments consideration Alex says, "Only if it wasn't because of a lady."

Philip wants to insist that it wasn't. And easy lie to appease his younger sibling but the words do not come easily enough.

Certainly not when he can still remember how Theodosia had looked at the ball, Like a goddess standing in the midst of peasant woman. Even now as he closed his eyes he could see her on the back of his eyelids. A divine blessing that had been bestowed upon him.

After a moment has passed Alex let's out a noise of surprise.

"If I were Angie I would be begging you for all the dirty details."

"Good thing you're not her."

"Philip-"

"Go back to your bed, please, we'll have a long ride tomorrow and I want to sleep."

"You mean you want to imagine your lady love while-"

"Alex no."

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: 
> 
> 1\. I had things I was actually going to put here, but I forgot them. I'll come back to this.


	3. Chapter Two

He had expected things to be tense at home.

Angie's letters had told him as much - she warned that their father was sleeping in his study, that she and the little boys were more often than not the only voices heard around the house, and that mother rarely left the house anymore.

But this was worse than Philip had expected.

The silence was deafening, as though the air had been sucked out of the room and he struggled to breathe. Dinner had been a stiff affair.  The table that usually was filled with voices joking and debating, was now silent only broken by the sounds of forks against plates.

The worst though had been late at night when John had cornered him in his room to ask in the curious voice of a child, "Why won't mom just divorce pops?"

He hadn't known how to answer John at the time.

He still doesn’t know how to answer him.

\---

He's two drafts into a letter he doesn't plan to send when he hears footsteps on the stairwell. They're soft enough that for a second he suspects they will belong to his sister who had left him barely an hours past with the insistence that she was to retire for the evening and that he ought to do the same.

Philip had ignored her and now surely she had come to reprimand him.

However when he looks up from his lines the woman standing before him is not the Angelica that he had been expecting, but rather his aunt. Her presence was the one thing seemed to bring their mother the slightest bit of happiness, but she made pops even more on edge than he already was.

This dichotomy left Philip unsure of how to feel in his aunt’s presence.

Which leaves him shooting her a sheepish grin and saying, “Good evening, Aunt Angelica.”

"I would tell you to sleep, but I'm afraid you'll listen as well as Alexander does," his aunt says when their eyes meet.

"I'm not normally like this," he insists. “Early to bed and early to - well, late to rise, but early to bed at least.”

That gets a laugh out of her. "Oh I know, which worries me."

"I'm writing a letter," Philip explains though he is hesitant to show it to her, when he sees her curiously looking towards his paper. "Well it's more of a poem."

At least, it was supposed to be a poem. He was currently stuck trying to remember if any word had ever rhymed with _Theodosia_ but was coming up empty handed. Any hopes he had at winning the affections of the woman that had surprised him with her beauty at the ball dashed by his writer’s block.

"Ah yes our young poet," his aunt smiles at that. "And what is it you're so fixated on that you simply must transcribe it? The awkwardness of your home? The clear signs of a dissolving marriage?"

Philip grimaces.

Aunt Angelica has always been terribly blunt.

He used to like that about her.

"Quite the opposite honestly.”

"A love letter?" Suddenly her interest seems piqued. He watches as she settles down at the table on the seat opposite of him. "To whom?"

"That's my secret I'm afraid?"

"Would I not approve?" She asks, "Is it a scandalous one. Tell me it’s not a married woman? I know you idolize Alexander but-”

"Please, Aunt Angelica."

"You're right that was cruel. I don't mean to be cruel to you, you've done nothing wrong that I know of. It's just hard," his aunt sighs at that. Her hands coming up to rub at her temples. “It is all very hard.”

"I understand."

She snorts at that. "You're a boy, or I suppose a man now, it's impossible for you to understand. I don't blame you for that, simply the truth I’m afraid."

"Then explain it to me."

She seems to consider that for a moment. Before finally saying, "Philip, be a dear and make your aunt some tea, won't you?"

"Yes ma'am." He says quickly tucking his writings away.

Even though in his haste the ink will surely smudge, it is not as if he had intended to send the letter to her in any case. No this one would join the fires like the ones before it.

There are other matters to discuss.

\---

Philip lingers in the door of his father's study - so many times before he would simply barge in distract him from his writings for a fraction of time - but now he hesitated nearly turning away before eventually giving in and knocking on the wooden door.

When his father looks up its with weary eyes, his glasses have slipped down his face though they do nothing to distract from the bags under his eyes, the exhaustion that is clear on his features.

The study is a mess, more so than usual, with a quilt draped over the couch in the corner and a mess of papers covering nearly every surface.

"Pops, I was going to take a walk and you look like you needed some fresh air." He can't remember a time where he spoke hesitantly to his own father before this.

His reply is delayed by eventually he lets out a noncommittal noise. "I'm fine."

"The hell you are."

That earns him the hint of a smile.

"Senator Burr said you were planning on leaving for the Capitol, is that true?"

"How the hell does Burr-" his father starts then stops, shaking his head once. "Never mind."

"Pops?"

"I have a plan that I need the President to look over, it will just be for a few weeks."

So it was true.

John’s question lingers in the back of his mind, did this mean his parents were separating after all. The thought was not a pleasant one. As the eldest son he would be expected to follow after his father but…

"Do you want me to go with?"

That seems to surprise his father. "I assumed you would want to remain with your mother."

The stiff way he refers to mom hurts a lot more than Phillip expected it to.

Philip simply shrugs in reply. "Figured I'd offer?"

"Your sister wanted to come with, something about a going on on the town. I suppose she could use a chaperone."

A summer with Angie sounded a lot better than a summer in this uncomfortable home.

"I'd be happy to help."

"You'll likely be bored out of your mind, listening to pointless gossip and whatever else it is women talk about? Needlepoint?"

"Beats me."

\---

With things settled with pops there was only one person left to see. He hesitates follows the sound of the piano as he often had as a boy to find her playing. She looks as he has often remembered her from his lessons as a boy, her fingers gracefully moving over the keys.

She plays more often lately. Insisting the need for practice and practice alone.

He is certain it is simply an excuse to not have to speak to their father, though he would never call her out on it.

Before he can clear his throat to subtly announce his presence she looks up at him, always having a way of sensing his presence.

"Philip, join me."

It's not a question, but a command and he takes a seat beside her, his own fingers finding their places on the keys with a practiced ease.

For a while neither of them speak, simply letting the music fill the space between them.

And then she breaks the quiet with a small laugh, "Will you ever stop trying to change the notes?"

"I'm afraid not. It is my one vice."

"If only it were your only." She replies, this time going so far as to stop playing entirely.

When Philip makes to do the same she shakes her head so he continues, picking up where she left off with minor changes.

"I have heard you will be accompanying Angie down to the Capitol with your father." The last word is said with a hint of disdain .

"She desperately wants to go, and I couldn't say no." Philip attempts to justify his choices. "You'll forgive me for going with father won't you?"

"There's nothing to forgive." She insists. And Philip desperately wishes to believe she is telling the truth. He hates to seem as though he has picked sides between his parents when he loves them both so. "Do promise me that when you're there you will look after them for me? Both of them."

"Of course, mom."

He does not look away from the piano to see her face, but her reply of "good" is so soft that he wishes for a moment that he had.

"Now, Philip, play that song for me again, properly this time."

\---

“You’re leaving me,” the betrayal in his little brother’s voice gives Phillip a small second of pause. Though when he looks over at Alex, his brother’s expression is too overdramatic to be real. “Her with the boys and _Fanny,_ who is just going to spend the entire time being jealous over Angie.”

“Then you can join her.”

Alex makes a rude gesture in reply.

“It’s just for a few weeks,” Philip insists. “If I don’t go, Angie can’t go-”

“And we’ll never hear the end of it if she’s stuck here. I know, I know,” Alex finishes for him. “Just sucks. I wish we could all go together.”

Briefly he entertains the notion. If pops hadn’t upset mom so then they could all be in the Capitol together. It had been a long time since they’d all gone somewhere together as a family, and usually when they did it was just upstate to grandfather’s estate. Though the last few times they’d done that pops had insisted upon staying behind for _work_.

No, it was better that they were having time apart.

“You’ll look after mom while we’re gone, right?”

“Was that even a question?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: 
> 
> 1\. So I forgot to mention this last chapter, but as this is a mix of musical and real history canons. Families are basically - the Hamilton's have all the kids (well not all just yet cause time lines but) that they do in real history. Meanwhile going with musical canon Burr just has little Theodosia and doesn't remarry.  
> 2\. The Capitol which they are heading to is in Philadelphia, because at the time of this fic.  
> 3\. Race in this fic is kind of going to be relevant. In that way I'm using their musical races for most the characters, and that will play a role in the story, eventually. On that note - which should've been a last chapter note - I picture Theodosia Sr as having been white (because she was the wife of a British solider).


	4. Chapter Three

Philadelphia is much like he remembered it from his childhood. Unbearably hot and constantly filled with people in a rush.

It is impossible for him not to compare it to New York, the place that will always be his home. Regardless of the years they spent here as children after the Capitol was moved. He had been glad to leave, and now being back… He supposed it was better than them all staying in New York where his parents couldn’t stand to be in the same room as each other.

Philip listens intently as Angie starts each sentence with, "Do you remember," nodding along as appropriate while she reminisces. His eyes taking in the city once more from the upper windows of the home pops has rented for their stay.

_Just for a few weeks_ , father had said. Though if that were true then why did they need such a large home?

It is only their fathers entrance into the space that stops Angie's stories, both of them looking over at him.

"I'll be very busy with work, so you two should be on your own for the most part."

"Shouldn’t that sentence end with a warning not to get in trouble?" Philip asks with a small smirk.

"I would say not to do anything I wouldn't but-"

"That standard is already so low," Angie finishes for him. Though she is teasing as well.

He can see the look of something almost happiness on his father's features, as he looks between the two of them, briefly before the worn down one he’d been wearing before returns.. An expression that Philip has seen on him far too frequently as of late.

"Look after each other?"

"When have we not?"

\---

"And then Agatha- Oh you know Agatha don't you? Miss Fitzgerald?”

"Do I," Philip asks absentmindedly only to be whacked atop his head by Angie's fan.

"She's a bit of a slut."

"Ah yes, now I remember her, that clears so much up. Thank you. Wherever would I be without _that_ description."

"I'm ignoring the sarcasm and continuing.”

"Please do," Philip tells her with a slight wave to continue.

With one last withering look, a spitting image of the one he'd seen on their mother’s face plenty of times, she continues.

He was not certain what he had expected from this trip - a chance to escape the house certainly.

As it was his father was never around, honestly Philip wasn't even certain he was still in Philadelphia half the time. And Angelica was flirting from social engagement to social engagement where Philip was required to sit off to the side and read as not to disturb the ladies and their gossip.

What he wouldn't give for decent company.

Strolling through the park was nice at least, fresh air instead of boring sitting rooms.

"Mrs. Thompson has invited us for dinner tomorrow evening and- Philip are you listening to me?"

"Not at all."

He barely dodges the second fan assault only doing so by stepping to the side violently an action that causes him to stumble onto the grass.

Philip quickly darts up, brushing off the grass from his breeches only to stop at the softest twinkling of laughter. It's a polite ladies laugh, not the type of laugh his sister would ever claim.

The two women the laughter belongs to stand together at the edge of their path. Parasols above their heads as though to block out the sun, though with their pigmentation certainly it is not necessary.

Upon a closer look he realizes that he knows one of the women watching them. Her smile - the one so clearly practiced - is what clues him in. That and that fact that the vision of her at the ball has been an image frequently in his mind as of late.

"I had heard rumors that the Hamiltons were in town, now I see those rumors were true."

"Miss Burr," he simply acknowledges her before nodding briefly to her companion, whose name he did not know.

"Oh, and where are my manners," Theodosia says suddenly. "Mr. Hamilton, Miss Hamilton, this is Miss Jefferson. Though I'm certain you must have met before."

"I'm afraid not," Miss Jefferson says after a moment, looking between them. She does not have the same level decorum as Theodosia to keep her facial expressions in check. Instead of a polite smile, they are met with an almost disgusted look. "Papa doesn't like me socializing with monarchists.”

"Maria!" Theodosia says sounding vaguely scandalized. Her hand fluttering to her friend's arm as though to calm her. "You mustn't say that where they can hear you, it's improper."

"My apologies," Miss Jefferson says though the sentiment seems thinly given and he can hear her not so subtle whisper to Theodosia, “But they are.”

"I just recently was acquainted with Mr. Hamilton and have discovered that he is quite different from his unfortunate relations," Theodosia replies in the same tone to Miss Jefferson "Perhaps we should give them the benefit of the doubt? Miss Hamilton could be a perfectly charming young woman."

It only takes one glance at his sister to see that she is furious. Angelica has never liked being talked about as though she wasn't there - it happened often enough among the company of men but with ladies were usually less cruel. To say that he was shocked by their lack of decorum and disrespect towards his sister would be putting it lightly.

"I'm afraid you will have to go without our acquaintance for the time being," Philip says.

"Oh?" Theodosia replies, arching a dark eyebrow in his direction.

"Yes, we're actually terribly busy and in a bit of a hurry."

“Are you now?”

“We _are_.”

It was a lie.

A bold face lie and certainly the ladies before him saw through it but as neither of them said anything he took it as an opportunity to take Angie's arm.

His sisters look of relief was enough to tell him that he was doing the right thing.

"Perhaps we'll meet another time?"

"Perhaps."

\---

The accidental meeting with Miss Burr and Miss Jefferson puts an end to Angie’s wants to explore the city. Suddenly a boring trip becomes even more boring, though Philip would have never believed it were possible.

He keeps turning the conversations over in his head. The Theodosia that he had met in the park was almost nothing like the woman he had met at the ball. A small part of him wondered if she had been putting on airs because of her company.

It would not entirely surprise him, after all, hadn’t his father always said the Burrs had no real opinions, they simply adopted the ones popular by the crowd on any given moment.

Of course offering those explanations to his sister did no good at all.

“I wish we had never come,” Angie says. “If mother were here to console me…”

“I’ll talk to father, ask if maybe we can arrange a carriage to take us up sooner or-”

“We’re just here for another week, I think I can bear it,” Angie says with a shake of her head. “If something comes up, I’ll just tell him I’m sick. You’ll cover for me, won’t you, Philip.”

“You’re my sister, was that even a question?”

\---

"You didn't have to stay with me," Angie says once their father has left. "You know I'm not really ill."

"It makes it more convincing if I stay here,” Philip points out. Though it’s just an excuse, he had no interest in attending the dinner at the president's house. Even if it was the last thing they had to do before returning to New York.

"But you're missing out on the politics. The high society."

"Fuck high society." Philip says bluntly.

Angie laughs at that.

The first laugh he's heard out of her since the incident in the park.

"But dear brother, don't you want to spend you evening flirting with Misses Burr and Jefferson?"

He means to make a face of disgust and certainly worth the last name mentioned it is no trouble- however the first gives him pause.

Philip still thought of Theodosia from time to time since their night at her father's ball, but the incident in the park and Angie's clear dislike of her had complicated things. Things which were already complicated.

"I know that look," Angie says suddenly, "Philip spill it."

"There is nothing to spill."

"Does that look have anything to do with what Alex had told me? Some girl you got all hot and bothered for at  a ball?"

"Drop it, Angie."

"Tell me it wasn't Maria Jefferson, I will die if it was. The very thought, - father would disown you! _I_ would disown you!"

"God no."

"Then it's Burr? Is that even better? You've heard pops talk about that guy right? You know that they-"

"It's nothing like that," Philip inists. “Certainly I find her attractive, but-”

“But!”

"You can appreciate the beauty of a woman and allure while ignoring her relations."

That gets Angie to wrinkle her nose. "God, Philip, forget I asked. The last thing I want to hear about is my brother’s sex life."

"You were so curious a second ago," he teases. “Maybe I should tell you about the ball after all.”

"Philip, leave me. I'm ill and the talk of you having sex with any woman will only make me more ill."

"As you wish."

\---

It is late by the time pops returns from dinner at the president's - Angelica long since having slipped off to sleep for the night. He looks tired, his cravat hanging loose around his neck, a few buttons of his waistcoat undone.

"You're up late."

It's a statement not a question.

Philip, unlike many other members of his family, has never missed an opportunity for a good night’s rest. They have often joked that it was his poet’s heart, the need to fall into a creative fantasy, that willed him to turn in early each night.

He doesn't outright answer his father, just gives a small shrug of his shoulders and closes his book. "How was the dinner?"

"Surprisingly not the worst, I've ever been to," pops admits. "Jefferson and Burr brought their daughters, so they had to pretend to be civil while the girls were in the room. Though the second they left to take a turn around the grounds, let's just leave it at I've had worse."

"Almost glad I missed it."

Pops laughs at that. "What you didn't want to suffer with me? Speaking of suffering, how's your sister?"

Faking illness would be the honest answer, but Philip had been sworn to secrecy. "Better? She's very tired."

"I shouldn't have brought her down here," there's worry on his father's features. Worry that Philip wishes he could take away.

"I expect she'll make a full recovery in a few days, just in time to head home."

"Since when were you a doctor?"

"I know Angie better than I know myself some days," is all Philip has to say on the matter. Thankfully pops accepts it for what it was.

There's a lull of silence between them. During which time Philip sets down his book and rises from his chair with every intention of finally heading to bed.

He's only stopped by a hand resting briefly on his shoulder. "Miss Burr asked after you and your sister, she wanted me to wish you well."

Theodosia asked after him.

He's not certain how to respond to that. "Ah."

"Is there any reason for this?"

"She was just trying to be polite, I'm sure."

His father doesn't seem convinced. "She also gave me a letter for you."

"For me?" His surprise is surely far too evident in his tone, mentally Philip chides himself for having sounded excited by the prospect.

"Philip is there something we need to talk about," the letter is still there in his hand, held just out of Philips reach.

"Nope," he replies quickly reaching forward, only for Pops to not to relinquish the letter. "Seriously it's probably an apology."

"Miss Burr is apologizing to you?" To say he looked skeptical would be putting it lightly

"Angie and I were out walking, I sort of tripped into her and the Jefferson girl, and they got a good laugh out of it." Philip shrugs. Angelica had asked him not to discuss the details of that encounter with their father, so he had to pick and choose what was safe to share. "Polite society dictates an apology in those sorts of situations, right? And Burrs are sticklers for that sort of shit so-"

"So the letter."

"Exactly."

This time the letter is relinquished into his hold.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a warning there might be a few days delay before the next chapter, this weekends going to be a pretty busy one with the holidays and all!


	5. Chapter Four

He’s supposed to be studying.

In fact, Philip had fully intended to study, his law books were set out across his desk for exactly that purpose.

It was just that a certain _someone_ had interrupted him-

“My dearest, Philip,” Angie says, adopting the high and lofty tone she has used every time she’s read the letter out loud to him before. “How I long to see you again? I yearn for your manhood, you-”

“That’s not what the letter says,” Philip cuts her off.

He reaches for the piece of parchment, only for Angie to roll off the bed, with the letter as her prize. A giggle escaping her lips as she outmaneuvers him. Technically he could get the letter back from her if he had really wanted to, but Angie had been in better spirits as of late, and he wasn’t about to ruin that over something petty.

Instead he just says, “Read it properly or don’t read it at all.”

“I bet I don’t even need to read it properly,” she replies, “You probably have the whole thing memorized.”

He did.

Not that he would admit that to his sister.

Of course, she takes his silence as an answer itself.

“You do realize she is _awful_ , right?”

“If you just-”

“Dear Philip,” she starts again, cutting him off. “You have no idea how surprised I was to have seen you in Philadelphia. I had hoped after your visit to my home that we might be deemed lucky enough to cross paths again, as we had never finished our prior conversation. I had not known it like a Hamilton to leave before a conversation was finished, in this way you surprise me.”

Angie pauses, her eyes skimming the next few lines without bothering to read them outloud.

When she picks up again it is in the recounting of their second meeting. “I am terribly afraid that Miss Jefferson and I may have offended your sister, this was never my intention you must understand. I care for Miss Jefferson dearly, as she cares for me. As our families are quite close, you must understand, that is is my duty to humor her. Even though circumstances may make it appear as though I am insulting others. I promise that she meant well, but in many ways her southern upbringing differentiates her from us northerners,” at this point Angie drops the tone to say in her own voice, “Basically she’s a bitch.”

“Basically,” Philip concedes.

Angie skims some more, finally reaching the end where what Philip is certain must be her favorite of the passages appears.

“My father has informed me with great misfortune that your dearest sister has fallen ill. I pray that Miss Hamilton has a fast recovery, and know that Philadelphia society shall desperately miss her presence. And yours. It is with deep sadness that I hear of your return to New York, as I had desired nothing more than to have a chance to properly speak with you. We have both grown in many ways since our first meetings as children, and I long to rekindle that acquaintance. If you may forgive me for my faults and accidental slanders, I would be forever yours, Miss Theodosia Burr.”

With that Angie thrusts the letter back at him, resuming her place upon the bed, dramatically sprawled out. “She’s smitten with you, you realize this don’t you?”

“She’s being kind,” he corrects, pushing her over so that he can have room to lie down as well.

Lying upon a bed to talk was a lot easier when they were children, now there didn’t seem to be nearly enough room. The hoops of Angie’s skirt digging into the side of his thigh, but he refused to get up. If she was going to be dramatic than he ought to be allowed to as well.

“She’s smitten with you and she’s awful,” Angie insists. “You can’t honestly be considering replying to her.”

“If I had intended to reply to Miss Burr I would have done so before we left Philadelphia or even shortly after we returned,” Philip points out.

By now, weeks had passed, long pass the time when it would have been appropriate or where he would have even had an excuse to write her back. There had been a moment shortly after he read the letter, and before they had left the capitol, when he had considered writing a reply to her. Philip had picked up a pen, as he often had since their meeting at the ball, intended to put something down - but he had been struck almost instantly with the worst bout of writer’s block he had ever encountered.

It simply was that he didn’t know what to say to her, where to even begin. Their _acquaintance_ if it could even be called that was a confusing notion. He had accidentally insulted her, she had in return done the same to him weeks later - and then the letter had appeared.

There were rules for society.

Rules that as a Hamilton he had often been taught to simply ignore or to only follow when absolutely necessary, but Theodosia lived for those rules. Her letter made that abundantly clear.

What read to him of sentiment could simply be nothing more than the paper form of that practiced smile she always wore upon her lips. As Angie has insisted many times that it had to be.

It is that very thought that plagues him each time he picks up a pen.

Then inevitably a second thought comes on its heels. What if this is sincerity, what if she does think of him in the same way he has thought of her so often. Late at night when no other thoughts can come to his mind, when it is only the vision of her beauty, the ghost of her hands on him as they dance, that can help him find his peace.

The truth was, he had every intention to write her back. Countless drafts of letters starting with _Dear Theodosia_ could attest to that fact. Yet none of them had ever come close to being complete.

It was probably for the best that he never had finished a letter.

“I can’t believe I’m the only one that knows that you’re secretly courting Theodosia _Burr_ ,” Angie says, with a small hint of glee.

“I’m not secretly courting her,” he insists.

“Sure, you’re not. You just don’t want me to know because I wouldn’t approve.”

“Or because I have no intention of courting her whatsoever?”

“I mean can you imagine though? Pops would disown you!”

\---

"Another round on him!"

"No - not on me," Philip tells the bartender quickly, ignoring Mulligans noises of protest. "Students salaries are pathetic, I can't afford another round."

"Jay! Jay! Don't let me down like Hamilton - that fucker-"

"I'm standing right here," he points out.

But it doesn't matter because all insults in his direction stop when William Jay nods once and signals for another round to be bought for the small gathering of law students.

A chorus of cheers rising up in turn as the next round of drinks and handed about and whatever they had been talking about before is pushed aside, as more explicit conversation is picked by the lot.

He takes a long drink of his beer before trying to keep track of the subject matter eventually asking Mulligan, “What am I missing?”

"Ladies, Hamilton, _Ladies,_ " Mulligan says clasping him on the back, "You spend a summer in the Capitol with ladies but you can't find a real woman to keep company with?"

"I wasn't really looking," Phillip says with slight hesitance, "Didn't seem like the right time given... You know?"

“When has that ever stopped you before?”

When Philip goes to answer him Mulligan quickly cuts in, “Don’t answer that. Though given the fact that your name is associated with one of the best sex pamphlets I've ever read, I would’ve expected your game to be better than ever.”

Mulligans casual comment causes a flush to appear at the tips of Philips ears as he focuses on his beer instead.

"I'm just saying-"

"Mulligan I swear to god the last thing I want you to tell me about is my pops sex life."

That gets him a laugh. A loud booming one that draws the attention of others their way. "The problem you've got here is that you're not using it properly," Mulligan tells him when he finally settles down, "You tell any loose woman who you are and - Bam!"

"Bam?"

"That's the sound of her knickers hitting the floor."

"Ah yes, of course, how could I have missed that?"

"Knickers, Hamilton, _knickers_."

\---

He's slightly tipsy, the after effects of a night out with friends giving him the confidence he would not have found under normal circumstances. The pen that had been so unmoving in his hand seems to flow easier now - as the words appear at the top of the page.

"Dear Theodosia," he reads off, as he tries to write "you must forgive - no fuck - you must understand that my delay in writing is not meant to offend. I have earnestly sought a chance to write you, but the hours in the day run few for a student of law."

It was an excuse, and excuse that he hoped she would buy easily enough when the letter reached her.

The letters begin to roll in after that - to his drunken missive she sends a charming reply - forgiving him of all possible faults before launching into an account of the high society of the Capitol.

He does not recognize many of the names on the page, but the friendly tone does not escape him. Theodosia it would seem has a great skill when it comes to letter writing.

Philip writes her back promptly this time. So caught up in his need to expressing his thoughts to her, that he scarcely realizes the passing of time. The late hour earning him a curious look from Angie and an almost knowing one from his father.

The second of those looks gives Philip pause, momentarily putting down his pen to meet his gaze in return.

"I see Miss Burr wrote you back?"

"She did," Philip acknowledges. No more inclined to show his father the letter than he had been with the first that had been given to him.

"Still on the matter of your unfortunate mishap in Philadelphia."

"Generally."

"And less generally?"

Pops was usually more blunt than that, never the type to beat around the bush. Instead he would launch into some long spiel - a prepared lecture depending on the circumstances.

Then again, Philip was usually more open with his family as well.

This past year had changed a lot at home.

"She is friendly," he eventually says, choosing his words carefully, but the meaning seems to carry across well enough. For a second later his father nods once before leaving Philip to his letter writing.

\---

"Philip! Angie! There's letters for you," it's James yelling up the stairs that pulls Philip out of his law books. Nearly tripping over himself in his haste to get down the stairs and secure his letter before his sister insists that she can take both (as he's known her too) and elect to do a dramatic reading of his.

He takes the letter from his younger brother a mere instant before his younger sister appears with a surprised look on her face, "I wasn't expecting a letter..."

"Who's it from," Philip asks, once she has the envelope in hand and is staring at it with the most perplexed look he has ever seen on his sister's features.

It is with more than just a hint of displeasure that she answers him. "Maria Jefferson."

"What the fuck?"

"My thoughts exactly," she replies, finally tearing the envelope open.

The parchment on the inside looks expensive, the hand writing elegantly written - "It's an invitation to visit Monticello for a wedding."

"Saying what the fuck again seems redundant."

"No, please do," Angie says, giving him a small smile. "I don't understand, she hates me, we've literally only spoken once and now - she wants me at her wedding?"

"I could be because of pops, the vice-president used to be in Washington’s cabinet too so-"

"Then they would have invited the whole family not..." Angie trails off, shaking her head. Her fingers still gripped tightly around the parchments.

"Angie."

"Who was your letter for," she asks, before he can continue to question her. "Was it from Miss Jefferson as well?"

Philip shakes his head, "No, it's Miss Burr we've been writing each other," he avoids her pointed gaze at that. Instead letting the gears in his head shift into motions. "Which is probably why Jefferson invited you up there."

"Explain?"

"She and Miss Burr have been staying together, right?"

Angie shrugs but concedes the point, "you would know."

"Well if that were the case and she wanted to," he pauses as he searches for the right word, "rekindle our acquaintance."

"Then having a friend invite me to a wedding would almost guarantee you coming along as a chaperone?"

"Yes."

Angie seems to take a long moment to take this in. Slowly folding the letter that had been given to her before putting it back in its envelope. Her expression inscrutable even for someone who had known her all his life.

"Angie?"

"Tell your lady love that we'll be there, if it's what you want."

“But what do you want?”

Again she hesitates.

“Whatever makes you happiest.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes:
> 
> 1\. Philip needed friends so introducing William Jay and William Mulligan, who were in New York and studying law at the time so like, it works okay. (Also wtf @ everyone naming their sons William).


	6. Chapter Five

The carriage ride is long and silent, each time he tries to speak up to engage Angie in conversation she shuts him down. At best he gets one or two word answers before her eyes turn back out to the window.

He wants to ask - but doesn't dare broach the subject - of why she agreed to go along if she had no want to do so. Part of Philip’s hesitance was that he knew what she would likely say; she'd offer him a thin smile and remind him that they were siblings and that family looked out for each other.

If only Angie could remember to look out for herself.

Instead he keeps the topic on easier things, the type of polite small talk that the siblings would normally scorn.

"We're nearly there."

"Yes," Angie says, her eyes still locked on the window. "Remember what pops said."

While her tone is drier than usual, Philip can tell a joke easily enough, and he cannot help but crack a small smile at that. Pops upon hearing that they had been invited to the home of Thomas Jefferson (of all people) had given them express orders to report back anything that could be used against the vice-president. That was of course only after he had gotten over his indignation and insistence that inviting them was all part of Jefferson’s evil plan to take over America.

"How could I possibly forget?"

\---

There's a servant to greet them when they arrive - a slave more precisely - and Philip doesn't bother hiding his disgust at the situation. As far as first impressions of Monticello went-

"Monsieur Hamilton! Mademoiselle Hamilton!"

A loud excited and distinctly French voice cuts off his train of thought and he turns around just in time to stop a young woman from barreling entirely into them. There is a man trailing behind her that looks familiar, as well as a crowd of people that must have been walking the grounds with them.

Briefly Philip catches disapproving looks from a few of them, unfamiliar faces already making judgements of him - before the woman that had called to them presses soft kisses to the sides of his cheeks and then repeating the motion with his sister.

"Mademoiselle Lafeyette, it's good to see you again!"

"Ah, oui!" She grins, before calling over her shoulder. "Georges! Georges! Did you know-" and then she transitions into such rapid fire French that Philip cannot even try to keep track of her words.

It doesn't matter for a second later he is being pulled into a brisk hug another flurry of kisses on his cheeks as Georges follows his sisters lead.

"We did not know you were coming," he says - Georges’ English better than Virginie's by a good deal. "You should have said. After this, maybe we can visit you."

"That would be wonderful," Philip replies, casting a look at his sister, whose spirits seem to have lightened significant in the presence of the Lafeyettes. A bright smile on her face as she converses with the other woman in rapid fire French.

"Though for now let us get you settled, oui?"

"Oh no you shouldn't stop your visiting on our account," Angie cuts in before Philip can reply. "Surely your company will miss you."

It is then that Philip remembers them, the group that had been walking past. As he looks over Georges' shoulder now he can see the group. A cluster of women with a few chaperones (most likely their brothers) and he recognizes the bride to be among them from their brief encounter as well as the woman standing immediately to her left.

Somehow Theodosia had gotten more beautiful since that last time he'd seen her. The light floral patterned dress rustling softly in the wind around her figure. But it is the expression on her face that gives him pause. There is not the glad look like he had so often imagined after reading her letters or even the practiced smile of a Burr. Instead he is greeted with a face that looks as cold as stone.

When he meets her eyes she returns his gaze like a challenge.

For a second, Philip contemplates approaching her, stepping away from the gathering of friends to greet the woman he had been corresponding with these past many weeks (the woman who was likely the entire reason he and his sister had been invited to this wedding). Before he can take a step towards her, Miss Jefferson speaks up, her voice sharp over the French gossip of his sister and friends.

“Ginny! Come back with us. Let your brother help them if he must, but please, it’s to be my wedding day, and I desperately need the company of friends!”

He sees a brief flash of guilt on Virginie’s face, before he responds, “Un moment, s'il vous plait?

\---

Philip doesn't see Theodosia after that until after the wedding ceremony is over. It seems absurd that he would not run into her even once, when she was undoubtedly the reason for him and his sister’s presence. After all the letters they had exchanged, letters that lent more to a courting feel that polite correspondence, he would have expected her to want to see him.

And yet, it is Georges and Virginie that he saw the most. The two of them showing the Hamiltons around Monticello as if it were their home, since their hostesses were otherwise occupied in preparation for the wedding.

He attempted to justify Theodosia’s absence in that same manner - surely she was busy helping her friend prepare for the wedding. Was that not the duty of a young woman's friends, especially in the circumstance in which the bride’s mother was no longer among them.

But even at the wedding dinner, when they are seated diagonal from each other, she refuses to meet his eye but for a passing moment, refuses all hint at conversation .

There remains a question on the tip of his tongue, the need to ask what he has done to offend, what has changed in the time since their last letter to the moment of his arrival at Monticello, but he never gets a moment alone to voice his concerns.

\---

"Philip, you're staring," Angie says, hitting him lightly with her fan.

"Am I?"

He hadn't even noticed. It was simply that as the evening progressed and Theodosia remained as distant from him as ever, his eyes were naturally drawn to her. Sometimes she would meet his gaze, briefly for a second, before turning away.

"You ought to at least ask her to dance," Angie says pointedly, "I know I do not have the most favorable opinion of her."

"That's an understatement."

"But Virginie likes her, and you appear to so surely that must count for something."

"Virginie also likes Miss Jeffer- Excuse me, _Mrs. Eppes_ , are you really going to trust her judgement?"

"Well, Mrs. Eppes was kind enough to offer us refreshments."

He casts a long look at his sister, who grins back at him. Her cheeks are a bit more flush that he remembered them being an hour ago - "You're drunk."

"Oh hardly." Angie dismisses the notion. "Now come dear brother, let's reintroduce ourselves to Miss Burr as I assume you will not do this without my assistance."

With that Angie is off, crossing the ballroom in a direct path and Philip hesitates only a moment before following after her. If he notes a brief flicker of surprise in Theodosias features when she realizes the direction that they are heading then, but she is quick to hide it, her face as impassive as ever in a blink of an eye.

“Miss Burr," Angie starts before Philip can get a word in edgewise.

"Miss Hamilton?"

Theodosias companion, a man Philip has never met is quickly introduced as a Mr. Alston.

"Hamilton, as in the man who wrote that disgusting-"

"Yes," Philip says, glaring at this stranger. "Our father."

"What a shame," Mr. Alston says, "Miss Burr how do you know the Hamiltons?"

"Our fathers used to practice law together when we were children, before Mr. Hamilton’s poor politics came into light," Theodosia explains quickly, "In spite of that we have remained acquaintances. Miss Hamilton is a charming young lady, excellent on the piano and highly accomplished in many other regards.”

There is no way for Theodosia to know that from experience. Only a line in his letters about Angie's love for the piano could have given her that notion.

"Is that right?”

Angie seems shocked by the whole exchange taking a moment before replying. "I do not entirely believe a woman's stock should be measured based on whether or not she is accomplished. Having a mind of ones own is perhaps a greater accomplishment. However I have been told that I play better than most."

"We shall have to get her to play for us at some point," Theodosia insists. "You will see then."

“If you ever make it up north, I would love to play for you,” Angie says.  Recovering enough to give Mr. Alston a polite smile. One that he does not seem keen to return.

“I feel as though that is unlikely. I am not one for the _north_ , and did you not say you were a Miss _Hamilton_?”

Philip can see his sister stiffen at once. She lacks the practice of Theodosia to maintain a smile in spite of clear disapproval. Her lips quirking down into a sudden frown.

“Yes I am.”

If Philip knows anything about his sister, then there will likely be a need of damage control the second Mr. Alston opens his mouth, especially if he has the nerve to mention a certain _pamphlet_ in the company of women. The shame was bad enough, but for his sister to bear it as well...

“I heard from our hosts that you were monarchists. I did not believe such people remained in the country. It’s not surprising given that that your father was removed from his position in the cabinet, if you don’t mind me saying?

He did mind. They both did.

“Ah, rumors, well we all know how those can be,” Theodosia cuts in before he can speak up in his defense. “Even if they were true, who is to say, one would never admit such a thing. In any case, such political leanings should not detract from a woman’s accomplishments.”

Mr. Alston looks as though he plans to comment on Theodosia’s words, but Philip has had just about enough of all of this, cutting him off before he gets the chance and turning to Theodosia to say, “Dance with me.”

A small smile curls at the edges of her lips as she says, “It would be my pleasure.”

He feels a bit bad when he sees Angie’s _help me_ look, but he cannot stay there any longer. At least, his parting with give Angie an excuse to leave Mr. Alston’s company, and Philip - he’ll finally be able to do what he had wanted to since he received Theodosia’s last letter.

Still he cannot let certain things lie easily, which is why, “We're not monarchists," are the first words he says the second they are on the dance floor.

"Oh I know," Theodosia assures him, "But as far as southerns are concerned all northerns are corrupt. If I can appease a few by distancing myself from the crowd... You certainly cannot fault me for that?"

"And my family is an easy target?"

He's not angry with her, it's a cold feeling he feels instead the effect of her indifference on the matter. His pride as a Hamilton stopping him from allowing himself to understand her side of things.

"It's not like that," she insists.

"You said those words right in front of my sister and I."

"Yes well," she pauses and shakes her head. There's a small smile on her lips as she says, "I thought you would understand, after the letter I sent you. I did so appreciate our corresponds, you are a master of prose."

He wants to give in, to let her compliment him for the rest of their dance. To talk of the things that they had written to each other - by he cannot, not when he hears all so clearly her fake little laugh and the instance that despite being monarchists-

"Why do you do that?"

"Do what," Theodosia asks.

She's giving him a polite out, a way to sidestep the unpleasant conversation but Philip can't. "Change your entire personality depending on who you're around."

He can see the exact moment she flinches back. Any pretense of pleasure dropped in an instant as the cold expression that he had been greeted with upon his arrival to Monticello comes back full force. She's beautiful even when angry. It makes him want to push her more, to see just how much he can say before she snaps at him.

When she does speak her voice is low and dangerous, "Polite society dictates-"

"Fuck being polite," Philip says. "It's about having personality. From your letters I thought perhaps you had one, but now I can see that that as a put upon act. Everything must be with you - I dare say you were meant for the stage."

"I would watch my tone if I were you," Theodosia says.

"Is that a threat?"

"A lady does not make threats," Theodosia replies. "Though a lady may certainly have regrets. I went out on a limb with Maria to invite you and your sister. Something that she strongly disapprove of."

"You shouldn't have made the effort."

"I now see the error of my ways." Theodosia says. There's anger in her dark eyes when they meet him. "Had I known... No, forget it, even I am not that cruel."

"I would appreciate cruelty, at least it would show you have some shred of personality that is actually your own and not a copy of whoever you are standing next to."

"Fuck you." The words are sharp, seemingly strange on her lips.

At once, even though the music still plays in the background, Theodosia stops dancing. Stepping away from him in a clear rejection of social norms, something that cannot be missed by bystanders. He would not have expected her to be so bold.

Which is why he stands there still and in shock as he walks away from him, leaving Philip on the ballroom floor, as she exits the room.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes:
> 
> 1\. New character this chapter include Georges and Virginie Lafeyette, who should probably be in France right now, but technically in the year this story takes place the Lafeyette we all know and love was in the US as a sort of ambassador. It's complicated, and yeah he probably wouldn't have brought them, but let's live in the yolo.  
> 2\. Also, yes that's a quick appearance of Theo's canon (can it really be called canon when its real history?) husband. Don't worry we'll see more of him later.
> 
> BONUS PSA: STAR WARS TFA COMES OUT TOMORROW, so there is an 80% chance I will be deep in Star Wars fangirl zone this weekend and will probably not update the fic until early next week. Very sorry about this, but also /Star Wars/


	7. Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is small, but the next one is coming tomorrow, so don't worry!

His pen flies across the page, all former fears of writer's block forgotten, they’re leaving in the morning, but even as the candle burns low he cannot seem to stop. Unwilling to because _this_ will be the last letter he gives to her, a final parting blow, in which he confesses everything; every thought he has had of her the pleasant and the unpleasant.

“You are undoubtedly an attractive woman,” he says the words aloud as he writes them. “I am certain whatever man is lucky enough to have you between his sheets will find you a passionate lover, as I have often imagined that you might be. However I dare hope that he never has to hear you speak. That he never has to fall prey to the lies that you build yourself upon, the caricature of a human being.”

He’s being harsh. Perhaps even too harsh.

Yet he cannot help it, could not even if he wanted to.

“You slander my family name in polite conversation under the guise of someone who you are not, and for that I despise you more than those who insult us openly.”

His pen still for once there, staring down at the words he had just written with a mix of uncertainty. Did he really despise her? Certainly, she was pretensive, hiding her true feelings from even him. And yet, he still remembered their correspondence, how he had eagerly looked for her letters over the past few weeks.

Could such acquaintance be broken so easily.

Philip nearly throws the letter away, burns it in the candle that illuminates his page, but no - she needs to see this. Needs to know that someone sees her for who she truly is. He doesn’t expect change, because people can’t really change and he’s heard his father's stories of Aaron Burr enough to see that it is simply her upbringing that has formed such a woman.

He hesitates before writing again.

“In truth, I realize I cannot entirely blame you for this. It is your upbringing, the lack of a strong female influence following your mother’s passing and a father whose political opinions seem to be non-existent for a man currently meant to be acting on the behalf of New York. I must assume that you simply do not know how to be a decent person, as such I forgive you of this fault.”

\---

Their return to New York following the wedding goes much better than the ride there, mostly due to the blessing which is the presence of the Lafeyettes. Having them along eases the tensions that had been built up during and preceding their visit to Monticello and Angie at least is in better spirits.

Philip tried to join in on the conversations, his French was well enough to carry on decent ones, though when the girls got high pitched and faster in speed he began to slowly lose track of things.

Which was probably why Philip spent more time staring out of the window than actually participating in the conversation, something that he had hoped would go unnoticed by his companions. Though he should’ve known better.

It’s Angie kicking his shin that pulls him out of his thoughts and he shoots her a glare before asking, “Yes, ma’am?”

“You’re being queerly mopey.” Her eyes squint slightly as she scrutinizes him. “Does this have anything to do with you-know-who and the dance from hell?”

Angie doesn’t know about the letter he’d written Theodosia. The letter he’d handed off to a slave with orders to deliver to her. He is not sure if Angie knew whether she would approve or not, certainly giving someone a piece of their mind was a Hamilton family virtue, but she likely would’ve encouraged a face to face conversation.

Fearing her disapproval, he shakes his head. “Just thinking about going home, that’s all.”

Angie shoots him a sympathetic look as he says those words making him feel bad. Her voice is low when she speaks this time, “Don’t worry with Ginny and Georges coming they won’t be able to stay fighting, right?”

“I hope not.”

\---

Miraculously Angie had been right, the tension at home, while not entirely gone, was lightened by the presence of their friends. The silence which had been so common before they left was alleviated by the company, in fact there were so many voices mixing together that the house was rarely even close to quiet.

Not that Philip could complain too much.

In fact it is a welcome relief.

The months began to pass, fall turning into winter, snow coating the ground; the letters on his desk from Theodosia, the ones he had sworn to burn when he arrived home, still sit in a stack gathering dust, all but forgotten.

  



	8. Chapter Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Christmas for those who celebrate. For those who don't, I hope you had some amazing take out tonight, I know I did!

It’s the snow storm that eventually does it. The gusts of wind and flurries of white, causing the whole world to shut themselves inside for the foreseeable future. Getting home in it had been a mess, dodging the carriages rushing past with minimal viewability, while his own scarf was wrapped so tightly around his face as to protect him from the inclimate weather.

When Philip finally made it home he was so relieved to just have made it out of the weather that for a second he didn’t even notice that there were other people in the entryway. Too busy stripping off layers now that he had entered the safety of his home, it was only his mother’s voice saying - “Philip you’re home early,” that stopped him in his place.

“Yeah, with the weather I-” he stops, his next words stuck in his throat, because as he looks up to meet his mother’s gaze, he notices the person standing next to her.

The thing was, he hadn’t even known that she was in town.

Certainly he wasn’t expecting to get any sort of news of her return to New York, not given the last letter that he had written to her, but Philip had at least expected to hear rumors of her arrival, maybe a hint of it, a mention from one of the other men in his classes.

It was just that a warning would have been nice.

For a second they both stare at each other, neither saying anything. The scarf Philip had been intending to unwind from his neck hangs limp in his hands, the wet mess of his hair, sticking to the sides of his face, meanwhile she looks as perfect as the last time he had seen her.

A vision in a red dress, her dark eyes watching him.

Saying, “What are you doing here,” is probably too harsh. If the look his mother shoots him is any indication, but Philip can’t stop himself. He’d been caught off guard.

Theodosia doesn’t reply at first, letting him stew in silence, before her polite standards reappear. “I was informed that Miss Lafayette was staying here. I stopped by to deliver a letter to her from Mrs. Eppes, and to give my greetings for the holidays to your family.”

“I see,” Philip says slowly. So no mention of a letter for him, unsurprising he supposed, but a bit disappointing. “And now-”

“Now I am leaving,” she says sharply, dropping into just the hint of a curtsey.

“Miss Burr you’re more than welcome to stay and wait out the storm,” his mother says, and for a second he had forgotten that she was even there. So caught up in the presence of Theodosia that it was as if all else had ceased to exist.

“Thank you for your kindness, Mrs. Hamilton, but as I said before, I really ought to be getting home. I’m staying just down the way and my father will worry about me if I fail to return. Contrary to popular belief we Burrs do have feelings.”

He flinches back at her acidic tone. Not willing to look past her to where he knows his mother will have a disapproving look on her face.

It is with great struggle that he finally speaks. “You can’t go out there in this storm.What if you get lost, I’ll never forgive myself?”

“I didn’t realize you cared,” Theodosia says curtly. “In fact, I have evidence to prove that you do _not_ care.”

He deserved that.

“Imagine what they’d say if Miss _Burr_ got lost on her way home from the _Hamiltons_ , I can already see the headlines,” Philip counters. “We could be accused of foul play or-”

“You’ve made your point.”

“Then you’ll stay,” Philip asks.

He knows from the way her gaze lingers on him that the only reason she would refuse to was his presence. And while Philip held no strong feelings for her other than in regards to her attraction - and her brilliant mind, but even that is so heavily guarded by the illusions of a person that he cannot fully appreciate it - his honor as a _Hamilton_ won’t let a woman leave in this weather.

Philip would never forgive himself if she fell ill or was hurt on the way home, because she couldn’t stand to be in _his_ home any longer. For all their disagreements, he wouldn’t wish that upon anyone.

A sigh of relief escapes him when she eventually nods.

“If I must.” Theodosia says “Though, you must promise me that the second the storm is safe enough to go out in, you will at least send a messenger to my father?”

\---

He had hoped that with Theodosia staying with them, that he might be given an opportunity to get her alone. To explain himself better than he had in writing, to address the elephant in the room, and more importantly to urge her not to share the contents to those letters with the ladies in his family who she seemed to be fond of.

Though no immediate opportunity had presented itself, with Theodosia staying, his mother had rushed her off to show her a room which she could have as her own for the night and Philip had fallen back into the studies that he had been neglecting prior to the storm. His mind still wandering as he stared down at the law pages, such that he felt no small hint of relief when his Aunt appeared at his doorway.

“The ladies are taking tea,” she says, in a high and lofty tone, almost _British_. It’s clearly meant to be a joke for there is laughter at the edges of her eyes.

“They want me?”

“God, I hope not,” Aunt Angelica says, smirking this time. “No, I’m afraid Georges might stab his eyes out with knitting needles if you leave him alone with them for much longer.”

“So you came to get me?”

“At times I can be generous,” she insists, gesturing for Philip to come forward, which he does, for there is no refusing Aunt Angelica.

The ladies are in one of the parlor rooms, poising on the couches with an air of sophistication, while just outside the window a storm rages on. Angie sits by the piano her fingers flying across the keys, while Virginie and his mother are making polite conversation with Theodosia.

“I’ve brought you a gift,” Aunt Angelica says, pushing him in the general direction of Georges, who had been laying out on one of the couches pretending to read. The other man lights up at the sight of some company that isn’t a lady, snapping his book shut and standing up at once.

“You’ve come to save me, mon ami.” Georges says, gesturing him over to the chessboard, where Philip follows.

As Georges sets out the pieces, he asks, “What were you talking about before I arrived? I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“Oh the usual,” Angie says, from the piano, “We’re all bragging about how accomplished we are.”

Her comments which get laughs from his family and the Lafeyettes seems to set Theodosia at ill ease. He can see the way her face freezes, the break from polite conversational tones catching her off guard.

“Something wrong, Miss Burr,” he asks, unable to resist.

“I just believe your sister is downplaying the importance of an accomplished woman.”

“And you then, are a very accomplished one?”

“More so than others,” she replies all too quickly. Theodosia seems to catch herself a moment later, a polite smile finding its place onto her lips. “I mean no offense. It is just that many women do not have the education that I have been gifted with, and I cannot help but find that disappointing.”

It is his Aunt Angelica that responds to her comment first. “You have no idea how rare it is to find an intelligent woman for company. In France they were everywhere, we’d talk politics and debate philosophy while our husbands drank. What do you do to keep your mind sharp?”

“I write, my father writes me extensive letters on his political affairs, and I have many others who I exchange letters with - ladies, lords, suitors - letter writing is one of my greatest hobbies.”

“You’d fit right in here,” his aunt replies, “Everyone is always writing in this house.”

The polite smile seems almost less polite in response to those words. “I have heard.”

Angelica must sense it for she changes tactics, “Tell me, do you enjoy the classics?”

“I’ve read them,” Theodosia nods her head briefly. “Homer, Virgil, even Aristophanes. My father wanted me to be just as educated as any man my age was, I dare say I was fluent in Latin and Greek before I learned to properly play the piano.”

Philip had sensed before from her letters that she was well read. She had made allusions to classical events in her letters, written as though she were a master of prose, but to have been educated to such an extent. He was curious about her, as always. Though now his chances to ask those questions would be tainted by their previous disagreements.

Still, he cannot help himself, “Tell me, Miss Burr, do you fancy yourself a Helen of Troy?”

When her eyes snap to meet his, it is with a fire in them, almost anger.

“Oh heavens no, I much prefer Circe.”

He had not expected that for an answer. “The witch who turned men into pigs?”

“Why, of course, because men are _pigs_. She was simply restoring them to their true form.”

Angie’s sharp laughter cuts off any thought Philip had of replying to her and a second later the rest of the women in the room join in. He cannot help but feel a rush of shame, it’s him that she is talking about.

“Miss Burr, you sound like a woman who has been scorned,” Angie says when she comes back to herself. She’s stopped playing now, to devote her full attention to Theodosia. “You must tell me who he is and what he’s done?”

Theodosia seems to consider it for a moment. Her eyes still locked with his as she slowly raises an eyebrow but he cannot reply to her, not without outing himself. Eventually she breaks his gaze, the smile on her face not a polite one, but one that seems lined with malice.

“Well, as you know, I have many admirers, men who write me long love letters, proclaiming me to be as beautiful as _Helen of Troy_. Of course, we all know what they’re really after.”

“And what’s that?”

“My father’s money. I’m the only child from a very wealthy family set to inherit it all at my father’s passing,” she says these words with a hint of displeasure. Her nose wrinkling ever so slightly. “They all must think I am blind and deaf to not know the reason for their interests.”

“I’m sure not all men are after your father’s money,” Philip insists.

He wasn’t.

He was interested in her, because she was beautiful and seemed to have a secret intelligence to her. She was a mystery. It was just that he did not like what he saw as the mystery began to shift. One woman should not have so many layers to her, it was not right.

“They are,” Theodosia insists. “This one, why I’m certain he was. Otherwise I don’t know why he was so disappointed when I spoke honestly to him, as I do not normally do with men since, as you know-”

“They want to off your dad and steal all his money,” Angie finishes.

Theodosia nods her head in agreement. “This one well he,” this time her eyes scan the room, stopping at Philip’s for a brief second. It is undeniable now that he is her subject matter. “Rather than being man enough to speak to me himself, about what he found _unfavorable_ in my personality, he wrote me a letter. Left it with a friend’s slave deliver to me only after he had left the city.”

“How awful,” Virginie says.

While his sister is less polite, “Sounds like a fucking dick.”

“Angie!”

“It’s true,” she insists, in spite of their mother’s admonishments.

“What did it say,” Georges asks. And briefly Philip shoots him a look of betrayal. Taking one of his pawns in punishment, though the frenchman barely recognizes it.

“Well it was quite crude,” Theodosia says, but she holds no sign of stopping. “He said things about me which are not proper conversation. They were of a _sexual nature_ , very detailed in what he believed my purpose as a woman to be.”

“Merde.”

“And then,” her voice raises her. “He went as so far to blame my mother’s passing for the reason I was so undesirable. As though my lack of a proper woman’s upbringing has soiled me for society.”

The anger in the room following her words is palpable. He can see it from the way his mother’s lips draw tightly together, to the way his aunt clutches her tea cup such that her knuckles shine white.

Angie speaks first, her rage barely contained, “Who was the fucker? I’ll punch him in the face for you, Miss Burr, I swear I will. Pops taught me how to throw a proper punch.”

This was it. All she had to do was say his name and then - but she doesn’t. She just shakes her head softly.

“It’s not worth mentioning his name. He’s not worth my time.”

“Damn straight he’s not,” Angie insists.

Moving away from the piano to cross over to Theodosia, pulling the woman into a hug which seems to startle her, before a second later Theodosia is hugging her back. Philip almost cannot believe his eyes, mere months ago Angie had been cursing Theodosia’s name calling her an awful excuse for a person, and now… Now, she was in her arms, reassuring her that she was wonderful.

Women were confusing to say the least.

\---

“Thank you,” he says, once all of the women had retired for the night. Only Theodosia seeming to linger behind.

She must have lingered for him, there was no other explanation. Yet she still seems surprised that he is speaking to her, the book that she had been reading lays on her lap, her eyes darting down to it immediately after he speaks.  

When she slowly turns to meet his gaze it is only to ask, “For what?”

“For not naming me.”

“I must admit I considered it,” Theodosia says. “I’ve imagined it quite often.”

“But you didn’t say anything, why?”

“Because, contrary to popular belief, I am not a cruel person,” she replies. “I am however a politically wise woman, and I must make the proper connections for my father’s sake. He has ambitions, ambitions that could be hindered if the right people think his daughter to have corrupt political leanings.”

“I thought you Burrs did not have political opinions.”

“Oh we have them, we have opinions on everything. It is just that _I_ simply know when to be honest, and when to say what people would like to hear.”

A caricature of a person. That is what he had called her. A liar.

He did not expect that someone who lied would so easily admit it.

“How do you expect people to ever know the true you then?”

For a second, he swears that he could see a flash of pity in her eyes. “I hope one day that those who are worthy of knowing my true self, will find themselves lucky to be the ones to see past the niceties. And not fault me for it.”

“You mean-”

“Good night, Mr. Hamilton,” she says, cutting him off, as she rises from her seat to leave the room. “Thank you again for your hospitality.”

  



	9. Chapter Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a snowstorm outside trapping me at work, and I feel like this is revenge for writing a snowstorm into this fic. So I dedicate this chapter to Winter Storm Goliath, now if you could chill so I could drive home that'd be nice.

The morning does not bring a respite from the storm, no matter how much he would have liked it to have. Still outside his windows is the fluttering of snowflakes, a white blanket coating the ground below while the wind howls.

He finds Theodosia in the sitting room, her eyes unmoving from the window.

“You do realize staring at the snow won’t make it stop.”

“I do,” she replies, not looking from the window. “Yet I can hope.”

“Are there many other things you hope for?”

That gets her eyes to leave the window for a brief second, flicking over in his direction with a look that is clearly displeasure. “Did you need something, Mr. Hamilton, or did you come here simply to disturb me.”

“I thought perhaps you would enjoy company.”

“I would,” she acknowledges, with a small nod, “But not yours.”

“I see.”

“Would you be a dear and tell me when Miss Hamilton or Miss Lafeyette wake up? ” Her words are a clear enough dismissal, and while he intends to do no such thing, he gives her a small nod - a half bow before slipping out of the room. He is back in his office, before realizing that Theodosia had dismissed him from his _own_ sitting room.

\---

“Phil, I know you’re studying, but mom says it’s dinner time.”

He looks up from his papers at the sound of James’s voice. His eyes settling briefly on the figure of his younger brother. There’s concern in the kids features, such that Philip cannot help but feel a pang of guilt.

“Have you eaten today?”

Philip honestly couldn’t remember, after his confrontation with Theodosia that morning he had buried himself in his studies determined to forget all about the houseguest that so desperately did not want to be there. Distantly he recalled his mother slipping into the room, setting a cup of tea by his side but the cup was still there, now filled with long gone cold liquid.

He ventures another glance at James, for someone so little he sure has mastered their mother’s _no nonsense_ face already.

“Maybe,” Philip ventures after a moment longer of contemplation.

“Down stairs now.”

“I need to study.”

“You _need_ to eat,” James insists. “Either come right now, or I’m getting the girls to come up here and get you. They’ll be a lot less nicer than I am.”

With one last reluctant look at his law books he finally rises from his chair, following James to the dining room. The whole family is there tonight, including their guests. The poor weather keeping his father from staying out late (as he had been known to lately) and the children so caught up in the sight out their windows that getting them to dine earlier had been near impossible.

It is always a bit of a scene when the whole Hamilton family gets together, all sense of propriety thrown out the window. The Lafeyettes had quickly gotten used to it; during their stay Georges even secretly confiding in him that the large dinners were the favorite part of coming to visit. And with company over there was no way for his parents to remain stiff with each other.

This time though, in the middle of it all, sits Theodosia. The picturesque lady, the outsider to their family - it is so apparent now as he watches her, seeming to shrink back into her seat casually observing everyone as they speak over each other.

He imagines it must be hard to manipulate the image of oneself to satisfy so many people.

Philip takes the seat across from her without thinking and he can see the way her eyes narrow at him across the table. Though she doesn’t say anything, just quickly turns back to listening into whatever conversation Angie and Virginie had been having before.

Instinctively Philip had known that something would have to go wrong.

A part of him had feared that it would be at his expense, Theodosia pulling a letter from her bosom and passing it around to the women in his family, was a horror stricken fantasy that had kept him up the night before. But in the end, he had gotten it completely reversed.

“Tell me, Miss Burr. What plans does your father have for when he loses the senate race? Is there some thing new that he intends to pretend to have opinions that way he can usurp whoever in change?”

The silence following those words is almost palpable. Almost all eyes drawn to his father at the head of the table, the only people that don’t look there immediately are his mother who stares down at her plate clutching her fork so tight that her knuckles show white, and Theodosia who stares straight ahead meeting Philip’s gaze.

“I’m simply curious as to what part at part of the government should I preemptively extent my sympathies to?”

The worst part was that no one was saying anything, no one was encouraging on denying it, and Theodosia-

“I can only imagine the lack of progress-”

“That’s enough.”

The words are out there, spoken before, Philip can even recognize his own voice, and realize that he had spoken his thoughts aloud. The silence that had been so heavy around the table, seems even heavier now, but Theodosia is looking at him, with surprise in her eyes.

Thankfully, he’s saved from having to say anything more by Angie speaking up, her voice sharp against the otherwise silent meal. “So, lovely weather we’re having?”

\---

He’s still awake when the snow storm finally stops, the wind having settled down, enough that when he looks out the window he can actually see the ground below. The faint hint of green in the pine trees just outside, the carriage covered so heavily that it will have to be dug out, and in the center of it all a woman.

For a second he thinks that it is his aunt. She is the sort of go out in a freshly finished storm, simply to appreciate the beauty of a world now calm. But then he recognizes that red coat. It had been the one Theodosia had worn when she had been insisting upon leaving the day before just as the storm was beginning.

He’s down the stairs and out the door before he can even think about it.

There’s snowflakes falling around her, stark white against her dark complexion, and Philip cannot help but be struck by the beauty of the sight. He had compared her to a goddess once before. The likenesses to Aphrodite or Helen of Troy, appearing as he had made to compose poems in her beauty. But now it was suddenly clear that she was neither of them, no - Theodosia was instead like Persephone. Standing there against the bitter icy wind, the anger of one who has lost so much and yet still goes on. Like the goddess she puts on the appearances, smiles like a proper queen, and yet - there is sadness in her features.

“Miss Burr,” he says, hesitant to disturb her.

Though his hesitance disappears a moment later when she turns to meet his gaze. There’s surprise in her eyes, a silent question there.

Before she can ask it, he speaks again, “Come back inside.”

She shakes her head softly. “I want to go home.”

“You can wait until morning, it’s late, if you leave now people will worry,” Philip insists.

“My father-”

“Has no doubt been worrying about you, I know. But do you think he wants you wandering home in the middle of the night.”   

She seems caught for a second, her eyes flickering back to the doorway behind him, before she comes to a decision. “I’m not staying here another night. I’ve already overstayed my welcome, as was abundantly clear earlier.”

Philip snorts at that.

“I still don’t understand why you said anything.”

“Neither do I,” Philip admits.

He hadn’t been thinking when he had spoken during dinner, not clearly at least. Philip had been angry for her sake, realized that this is what it must have been like before with the Jeffersons and their friends. A small part of him had considered remaining silent, as she would have, but Philip had never been the type of person to sit idly by for anything.

She turned her eyes back towards the sky, whatever she was thinking, he could not begin to guess.

“The storm has ended, Mr. Hamilton, there’s no reason for me to linger,” Theodosia insists. “I am not afraid of the dark.”

“It could just be the eye of the storm,” Philip says. “Any second now the wind could start up again. The momentary calm swept away in an instant.”

“And I suppose you know a lot about storms?”

“I know enough.”

“Then tell me Mr. Hamilton, what would you do if our positions were reversed? Remain in a place where you are unwelcome, or return home to a family that surely is worried sick about you? This light dusting of snow is nothing compared to the misery of remaining here until the morning.”

“At least let me walk you home,” Phillip says, in a last ditch attempt. “It will put my mind at ease.”

She nods her head slowly, and when he offers her arm to him, she hesitantly slips hers through him. Leading the way down the street and away from his home. “Perhaps we are in the eye of the storm after all?”

“Excuse me?”

“This is your chance, to let me walk away off into the night on my own. I know you think nothing kind of me, would it not make you happy to see the woman you so scorn swept away at the storm returns.”

“If you’re accusing me of having ulterior motives for walking you home then I’m afraid-”

“No, that’s not it at all,” she shakes her head slightly. “Normally I have a much better way with words.”

“Normally you are not being honest.”

“Ah, there is the Philip that I am familiar with,” Theodosia smiles slightly. He wonders if this too is a practiced one, offering just for his sake. “You know, I have thought about you often since I received your letter, thought of all the unkind things I could say to you. All the things you deserved to hear.”

“You may say them now,” he offers. “There’s no one here, but us.”

“I am quite certain that it is not worth the effort.”

“You confuse me Miss Burr.”

“Theodosia,” she corrects. “If we are being honest with each other, than you must call me Theodosia. You must ignore the prejudices you have against my father, and she me simply for who I am.”

He relents to that. “Theodosia then. I have been trying to figure you out since the night at the ball, but you craft so many layers to yourself. Layers that I have been struggling to shift through.”

“You did not like what you found underneath.”

“I did not like having to dig in the first place,” he explains. “I suppose I am easily frustrated.”

That gets a small laugh out of her. “I can only imagine what your future will hold - you’ll be passionate in court one day, I imagine it will be quite a sight to see. And if you find something you believe in, the words you can create with such fury will no doubt be channeled into something good.”

“It is a hope of mine,” he admits.  

“I know.”

“You are specularly good at reading people.”

“I am a _highly accomplished_ woman.”

This time it was Philip’s turn to laugh. The sound echoing through the cold winter air.

“Such a high honor that must be,” he says, when he finally comes back to himself.

The amusement in her eyes seems shielded. “It is truly a shame I was born a woman. Instead I must play the doting daughter, and one day the cultured wife, but never the man of the law, never the politician.”

“Perhaps that is the greatest tragedy of them all.”

“Perhaps,” she echoes.

She slows to a stop after that, her eyes moving to the home before them, a candle is still lit in one of the windows. Someone has been waiting up for her.

“This is good night.”

Reluctantly he removes his arm from hers. The words, “Good night, Theodosia,” seem to be not nearly enough. There’s so much more he has to say to her, so much more he wants to. This night has changed things, in a way that he is only beginning to understand. Who knows what daylight will bring.

“Write to me,” she calls after him, lingering on the door to her home. He turns back to look at her, the moonlight shining across her hair, one last glimpse of her beauty. “I know we may not see eye to eye, but I enjoyed your letters. All except for the last.”

“I cannot promise they will all be kind.”

“I don’t care, be mean, be vicious if you must, but sate my curiosity.”

“Then it will be my honor.”  

 


	10. Chapter Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO BIG AUTHORS NOTE PSA HERE - this chapter begins what I like to call "Act 2" of the story. Which mean following the events of the last chapter we have this very big time skip that puts us in the summer about a year later. I know kind of a big jump, but it will all hopefully make sense to you guys.
> 
> Welcome now, to Act 2 of The Secret Life of Daydreams

 

“I have-”

“No you don’t,” Angie insists. “You’ve finished for the summer, no Philip do yourself a favor and _take a break_.”

Angie had been idle, desperately in need of company ever since the Lafeyettes had gone south months before, and while usually Philip was able to pass off her requests for a chaperone to someone else with an excuse of studying, the week before had ended his first year of college. His excuses had run out.

“Soon,” he insists, looking up from his notes to meet her disapproving gaze.

“No, Philip, now.”

“Angie-”

“Miss Burr has invited me out to lunch with her, but we are in need of a chaperone. Now either you go with me or we will be forced to invite someone else.”

That gets his attention, and he’s almost ashamed of how quickly his head snaps up. Especially when he is greeted by a knowing grin on his sister’s face. She had been not so subtly intercepting his mail as of late. Insisting that his letters from Theodosia got mixed in with hers when they arrived though he knew better.

“You planned this,” he accuses and she doesn’t even try to deny it.

Angie simply shrugs her shoulders. “I’m bored, Theodosia is in town, and I know you want to make eyes at her so come on.”

“I don’t want to _make eyes at her_ ,” he insists.

“Yeah, you want to do a lot more. I know, gross,” Angie pulls a face. “Now are you going to come with us, or am I going to have to tell her that my pathetic excuse for a brother refused to leave his books for one second to enjoy the fresh air.”

\---

A picnic in the park seems almost too quaint.

This was technically meant to be Angie and Theodosia’s picnic, but Angie had insisted upon going to sit down by the water and when Theodosia had waved her off only she had remained with Philip.

He probably should’ve gone down to the water with Angie.

Instead he was here, alone with Theodosia, who was doing more sunbathing than actually reading her poetry. She’s beautiful like this, with the sun glinting off of her skin, reclining on the blanket that they had brought with them, her book resting on her stomach with its spine turned up towards the sun.

Were he an artist he would paint the scene before him so that he could look at it whenever he so pleased.

“Beautiful.”

“Pardon,” Theodosia says, turning her face away from the sun to look at him. Her lips curl up slightly into a smile, a real one.

“The weather,” Philip says, though he knows she barely believes him, he can see in her eyes that she isn’t falling for his tricks. “Summer’s in New York are always beautiful.”

Still she plays along.

“Much better than the last time we met, that is for certain.”

“I don’t know, I quite liked the snow.”

“Didn’t you just say that you found the summers beautiful? You are quite confusing, Mr. Hamilton.”

“I’ve told you before to call me Philip,” he says, rather than answering her question.

“We’re in public.”

“So?”

“It wouldn’t be proper,” she says.

“Those seem to be your favorite words.”

Theodosia sits up at that, no longer as relaxed as she had once been, though she refuses to reply to him, instead her eyes dart around the park like a casual observer. When Angie looks back their way Theodosia offers her a small wave, snapping her book shut and rising from her sitting position.

He should let her go, let the women enjoy their time together as was the purpose of the day, but he cannot help but desire her company, cannot stop himself from speaking up almost desperately. “I had hoped that we could rekindle our acquaintance now that you’d returned to New York.”

Theodosia furrows her brows together, though she does turn to give him her attention once more. “I am not certain we ever had a proper _acquaintance_.”

“We’ve exchanged letters.”

“I do this with many people,” she insists.

He cannot help the feelings of jealousy which stirred up inside of him at her words. He had known this, of course, Theodosia often mentioned others she wrote to, men and women. Probably more so than was _proper_ \- to use her favorite word - though saying as much would only cause more strife between them so he chose to remain mum on the subject.

“Yes, I know. I just have thought of you often and-”

“Philip, let me stop you there,” she cuts him off.

When he looks up at her face it is not a smile that adorns her lips or even the look of longing that he had fantasised about. Instead she looks to be pitying him.

The tips of his ears begin to heat with embarrassment.

“I do like you Philip, you letters are enjoyable, your family while drastically different from mine does hold some wonders in it. However, I cannot have anything more than a friendship with you.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I sense that you might have an interest in courting me, and you must know that I have no interest in marrying you or even considering the notion,” Theodosia says frankly. “My father would never approve, and I am certain yours would not either.”

She did have a point there.

“I do however enjoy writing you, when you are being kind that is, and I have recently come to the point where I may call your sister my friend. I will not ruin that by letting you consider the notion of courting me, such I am now putting an end to any of those thoughts,” she continues. “But, Philip, you are someone I would like to consider a friend. If this is acceptable to you.”

A friend.

He had certainly spent many nights thinking of her in a way that would not be fitting for someone who is simply a _friend_ , but she did have a point. Courting between them would be unreasonable, neither family would approve, and no doubt the offenses they had made towards each other in the past would make it near impossible.

He cannot help his fantasies, but for her sake he would try.

So he nods once ever so slightly. “If that is what you wish.”

“Thank you, that is all I could hope for.”


	11. Chapter Ten

The problem with being _just friends_ with Theodosia was that he saw her everywhere now. The friendship that she had somehow managed to cultivate with Angie meant that she spent far too much time at his house, sitting in drawing rooms having hushed conversation with his sister. And whenever Angie went out for the day, it was usually Philip who was roped into being her chaperone, following a few steps behind as Theodosia and Angie went about the town.

“She is like a sister to me,” Angie confesses to him one night, a look of hope in her eyes. Her implications are not subtle at all.

He wishes he could give her the answer she wants, but instead he shakes his head. “I’m glad you’re making friends,” isn’t the answer she wants to hear at all.

\---

With Theodosia in town there is no excuse for writing letters to her, yet some nights he cannot stop his pen.

Philip has always been a poet, and now it is like his muse has appeared for him, a muse that he is unable to to have. He feels like Apollo chasing after Daphne, he compares her as such in lines of poems. A nymph that is forever out of his grasp.

He burns the poems rather than giving them to the object of his affection.  Watching as the fire eats up his written lines, hiding his feelings for her.

She is a distraction, a fixation that he cannot rid from his mind.

He’s not entirely sure if he wants to.

He picks up other women to distract himself, it’s easy enough and nothing gets too _serious_. Just casual conversations of idle flattery that would get him swatted in a ballroom but in less proper society gets him a wiff of sweet perfume and coquettish smiles.  

Yet even his distractions cannot purely rid him of the thoughts of Theodosia, with each woman he meets inevitably the comparisons are drawn. This one’s eyes are not as bright as Theodosia’s, or that one’s skin not so smooth. Every other woman he spends a moment with falls short in comparison to her forbidden beauty.

It was as if Theodosia was created by the gods purely to torment him.

He would not doubt it if she were.

\---

“Philip! Sit still,” the sharp voice of his sister pulls him back to attention, straightening his shoulders up once more, and gazing a landscape on the wall just above the ladies’ shoulders with renewed focus.

Before coming under Theodosia’s influence, Angie had never concerned herself with the type of frivolities that were becoming of an _accomplished woman_. Certainly, she played the piano with great skill but beyond that she could seem to care less. Upbringing in the Hamilton household had always been less stern than their companions upbringings.

A fact that Philip had always appreciated.

Now though - he was being made to sit for a likeness as his sister, and her companion (the very companion whose presence eternally plagued Philip’s mind) sketch him.

He can’t imagine Angie’s looks very good, from the way he can see her frowning out of his peripherals and the gentle reassurances Theodosia seems fit to offer every few minutes.

Theodosia’s on the old hand… He likes to imagine she is sure in her work, capturing him as a mirror might, perhaps she will take the likeness home with her and gaze at it before lying down in her bed at night or-

“Philip! For fuck’s sake!”

There’s a scandalized gasp from Theodosia. Cursing is unbecoming of a lady. The Hamilton’s have never cared, in their own house even his mother was known to use a cruel tongue (especially after his father’s infidelity was made public), but he knows Angie had been trying to appear more ladylike while around Theodosia.

A notion that still seems absurd to Philip.

He speaks up before Angie can offer an apology to her companion, “You know it is very difficult to sit in one place all day long without moving.”

Theodosia takes the bait, setting aside her pen to let out a sigh. “It’s a lesson in patience, Mr. Hamilton.”

“Something I am clearly lacking.”

“Clearly,” Theodosia echoes in agreement.

“Talk about something,” he says, voice litting up at the end with a questioning tone. “It is hard not to fidget when all I hear is the sound of your pencils against pages, but perhaps if I heard voices. Even the idle chatter of women could entertain me enough to keep still.”

The last part is meant to tease her, to rile her up, and as he looks away from the landscape to focus on Theodosia’s face he can see her expression is twisted into something of ill humor, clearly he has succeeded.

Angie lets out a groan. “Ignore him.”

“No, no,” Theodosia shakes her head. “If he wants _idle chatter_ than, I’m certain we can come up with something.”

“Perhaps the weather,” Philip offers.

There’s another groan from Angie but he catches Theodosia’s secret smile (the real one that he holds so dear to his heart).

“Did you know the Mulligan’s are having a ball? Surely, you must have heard, your family is closer to them than mine,” Theodosia is still staring at him but her words are for Angie.

And it is Angie who replies, “Oh yes. I had been hoping to find a suitable gown to wear for the ball, nothing I have seems sufficient.”

“Well then, shall we talk about dresses,” Theodosia asks, “Is that good enough for you, Mr. Hamilton.”

He lets his eyes linger on Theodosia for one long moment, soaking up every glimpse of her that he has, before directing his eyes back to the landscape he had been obstructed to gaze at when the sitting had begun.

It is only then that he speaks up, his voice a playful droll, lips turning up into a smile as he says, “I believe that will bore me enough to sit still.”

Though he doesn't see his expression, he imagines mirth in her eyes as she replies, “We can only hope.”

 


	12. Chapter Eleven

The ball comes sooner than he had expected, and with it a flurry of activity. Such that by time the ball actually arrives Philip cannot help but heave a sigh of relief.

He greets William Mulligan with familiarity, grinning at each other as they take in the sight of the ladies. A familiar pastime now moved out from the bars and into the realm of polite society. The drinks are less strong here, the crowd less merry, but the women are just as beautiful.

Theodosia in particular. She and his sister have barely stopped dancing since the night began, pulling every young man they could find out onto the floor with them. He watches the sight with great amusement, the two women working as a tag team to get even the reluctance of men onto the dance floor.

Which is why he’s not surprised in the slightest by Angie coming to steal his companion away, tossing a wink over her shoulder as she leaves Philip with Theodosia. Though for once she doesn’t seem keen to draw him out onto the floor.

And instead it is left up to Philip to say, “Dance with me.”

Theodosia stares at him for a long moment, her features unchanging, as though she hadn’t even heard him. It is only when Philip adds the word, “Please,” at the end that her smile returns. Offering for him to take her arm and lead her out onto the dance floor.

His hands find her waist as though they have done this hundreds of times before, though in truth the occasion is one so rare that each instance stands out sharply in Philip’s head.

“What’s going on in your head,” he asks when the dancing starts, “You’re as impossible to read as ever.”

“And yet, here you are, trying to figure me out again,” Theodosia replies. It’s not an answer to this question, not that he had really expected out.

“I’m always trying to figure you out.”

“Do you ever have any luck?”

“Not usually,” he admits.

Which earns him one of her wonderful laughs. A rare gift that he cannot help but yearn to hear more off, though only for his exclusive listening, no one else deserving to hear the melodies she can make.

When she falls quiet, he speaks again, “I wanted to thank you.”

“For what? Dancing with you?”

“For getting Angie involved in your schemes.”

This softens her features ever so slightly. “I care for Miss Hamilton most dearly, she is like a sister to me.”

It hits him after a moment, that he’s heard those very words before from his own sister's lips.

“Nevertheless, you have my thanks.”

“Philip,” she says, and he could have sworn that his name had carried as much weight as it did in that moment. When he looks up to meet her eyes, he could almost swear there was something like sadness hidden in those dark orbs.

“Theodosia?”

She opens her mouth to say something more, undoubtedly words that will break him, but before she can speak the music dies down. Polite society dictating that they come back to the world around them and politely clap for the musicians.

When he looks away from them and back to the space occupied by Theodosia she’s gone.

\---

He spends the rest of the night searching the crowd for her, unable to focus on anyone else, the brief glimpse of Theodosia enough to leave him breathless time and time again. She surely must know the affect she has on him. Philip cannot help but wonder if that was her intention, to tease him such that he can think of nothing else, but her.

If that had been her plan, then she was successful.

“You’re not dancing with anyone, dearest brother,” Angie says, pulling him away from his search to focus on his sister’s curious face. She’s slightly flushed, clearly the night has been a successful one for her at the very least. Though her features have narrowed in concern now that she has him cornered. “Are you not enjoying yourself?”

“Just looking for someone,” he tries to reassure her.

“Oh you mean Mr. Mulligan,” Angie prompts, “I think I saw him by-”

“Not him.”

“Then who?”

Philip doesn’t want to answer her question, but Angie is not the type to back down. She narrows her eyes at him in a scrutinizing manner that is reminisce of their mother, and that Philip is helpless against.

“Theodosia?”

A dark look passes his sister’s features at that, which is odd considering just before he had danced with Theodosia the two of them had been thick as thieves, giggling and gossiping to each other in between dances.

Something had either gone terribly wrong or-

“She’s with Mr. Alston.”

The name is only vaguely familiar to him, but is said with such scorn by Angie that he realizes this figure must be someone noteworthy.

“Who?”

“Do you remember Mrs. Eppes wedding,” Angie prompts, “And the awful man that you and Theodosia left me to talk to.”

Philip had done his best to block most of that night out of his mind. So he shrugs rather than answering her straight away.

“Well, he’s _here_ ,” she continues, “And he’s spent most of the evening with Theodosia for company. Apparently he has been to the Burr’s for dinner three nights already since he came to New York, and - well, Theodosia says he’s not as awful as he appeared before, but…”

“But,” Philip prompts.

“She’s going to marry him. He’s clearly interested in her, and if Mr. Burr approves then - I don’t want Theodosia to move down south. She’s my _friend_ , and everyone is awful there. I’ll never get to visit her,” the rest of what Angie says falls upon deaf ears because it is then that Philip spots her.

Theodosia, off to the side of the dance floor, her gloved hand resting ever so slightly along the arm of a man whose features now begin to look familiar. He’s clearly wealthy, clearly _southern_ , and Philip cannot help the feeling of bitter jealousy that rise up inside of him at once.

Whatever Mr. Alston might be, Philip is certain of one thing, he does not _deserve_ Theodosia.

Nobody deserves her, she is too perfect of a being for any of them, and yet Philip could not help but fantasy that he might be the one too, that he might have a chance with her. She had been polite enough to turn him down before he could even begin to ask at the beginning of the summer but Philip’s feeling had not waned and he had foolishly hoped that hers might change.

Now it seems that all of that had been hopeless, for Theodosia was to be forever lost to him.

His love for her nothing more than a daydream.

As if sensing his thoughts from afar Theodosia turns at once, glancing beyond her companion to meet Philip’s eyes.

Suddenly he can’t stay in there any longer; he feels trapped in the ballroom, his skin itching.

“I need some air,” Philip says quickly, brushing past Angie, thankful when after a moment his sister decides not to follow him.

Though he cannot help but notice out of his peripheral vision that his need to leave the ballroom is not gone unnoticed.

\---

Philip paces back and forth in the gardens, following the path along the carefully planted shrubbery, as he tries to sort through the conflicting thoughts in his mind.

He is not left alone with his thoughts for very long, the sound of heels against cobblestone.

“Philip?”

Hearing his name on her lips seems like the sweetest of poisons. He doesn’t dare turn to look at her, no doubt the image would be enough to

“You left after our dance.”

“As is customary when the music ends,” she replies, though there is a soft almost sad lit to her voice. “And now you’ve left the party...”

“I didn’t want you to follow me,” he says quickly in his defense, “If Angie sent you-”

“She didn’t,” Theodosia cuts him off. “Though if you truly don’t want me here I’ll leave.”

He wants her there, desperately. He wants her in his life in any way that he can have her. The idea of her leaving, walking back into the ball, it’s almost too painful to bear. But at the same time keeping her here when he knows she has no desires for him feels just as cruel.

“Please do,” he says. Priding himself on how level his voice sounds for those two words, though it won’t stay that way for long. “I am certain Mr. Alston is missing your company.”

Theodosia’s sigh is almost annoyed. And when he finally turns to look at her he finds her features are much the same.

“Is that honestly what this is about?”

He doesn’t answer her, but he supposes that in the end his silence is answer enough.

“For fuck’s sake Philip.”

In spite of her tone, he can’t help but smile at her words. At the sight of the ever cool and collected Theodosia Burr finally losing the calm facade. Her hands go up as if to thread through her hair, only to realize it is still in her carefully crafted updo, and aborts the motion halfway through.

“Mr. Alston is kind to me, and he is friends with my father that is all it’s not as if I-,” she pauses, letting out a frustrated noise, “And if he were to be courting me, it would be none of your business in any case. No reason for you to act so childish as to storm out of a ballroom.”

“I’m _childish_ ,” he repeats her words incredulously.

“Yes! Why else would you go storming out of there like-”

“I’m in love with you.”

The words are off of his lips before he can think them through, his heart moving faster than his mind can stop it. He watches as she recognizes the words, her eyes going wide with shock. The white of her gloves, contrasting with the dark contour of her face as she moves her hands up to cover her mouth in surprise.

It was not the reaction Philip had been hoping for but she’s not speak or hurrying away from him so he takes it as his chance.

“I have for quite some time found you fascinating Theodosia, surely you know this. When I saw in your father’s ballroom what seems like a lifetime ago I was struck by your beauty but over time… Your letters were what first made me desire you and then with everything that happened at Mrs. Eppes weddings I was angry at the time but you plague my mind constantly. I could not escape you, nor would I ever want to. When we rekindled our acquaintance it was as though I could finally breathe again after a long winter, which I suppose is most fitting for I realized I was in love with you that moment in the snow.”

He could still see it if he closed his eyes, the moon as their only light, Theodosia standing in the freshly fallen snow insisting that she needed to get home.

Falling for her had been inevitable and now that he admitted this it was as if a great load had been lifted off his shoulders.

“That is why I could not stay in that ballroom any longer, watching you with another man,” Philip insists, “I love you, Theodosia, and while you may not feel the same, I cannot stop my heart.”

For a second neither of them speak, and then, her voice ever so soft that he nearly does not hear it. “What if I do feel the same?”

 


	13. Chapter Twelve

“Philip. You’re not saying anything.”

“I’m not certain what to say.”

His mind is still in shock, as though the words she spoke to him mere moments before cannot possibly be true. It seems unfathomable. Something that was plucked out from a dream, not reality.

The notion that Theodosia might actually return a fraction of his feelings, might have any interest in him beyond that of a mildly intriguing acquaintance.

“Well, you need to say _something_ ,” she says sharply cutting off his thoughts.

Philip can hear her as she begins to pace across the cobblestones just as he had been doing before her arrival - they are so alike in ways that neither of them would be willing to admit. He wonders if she picked the habit up as he did, following behind the curtails of an ever busy politician.

“Please, Philip, just-”

“You return my affection,” he cuts her off, his voice raising with the question still there.

“I might,” she says, her voice smaller than usual, “It’s complicated, Philip. I like you dearly and I have struggled with this emotion for quite some time.”

“Struggled with it? Why would you do so, when admitting it openly-” He shakes his head, “You knew, that day in the park, you at least had a notion of what I might feel for you and yet you turned me down so quickly.”

“It was for the best. That is why I meant to hold my tongue, to hold onto these feelings until they passed.”

The very thought of that sends an unwelcome chill through Philip.

All he can manage to ask is, “Why?”

“Because of our circumstances. You must understand that I fought with these feelings endlessly knowing that things would never work out between us,” Theodosia explains, “There is the obvious disagreements in regards to politics, our long term plans for succeeding in life, and generally to how to behave in proper society. As well as the matter of your family-”

“My family,” he repeats, offended. “You are friends with my sister.”

“Yes, I do love Angie as dearly as if she were my own sister, and your mother is always kind to me, but for the rest of them - or more specifically for your _father_. You must understand my concerns, I don’t want to be wed to a man that might somebody follow in his father’s footsteps.”

“I am proud of my father,” Philip says, his offense rising.

He may have feelings for Theodosia, but he was a Hamilton first and foremost.

“Well, excuse me if I would prefer not to marry a man who might have a genetic predisposition for unfaithfulness; and heaven forbid thing that publishing a pamphlet on that matter is suitable for public eye - No, Philip, this isn’t a fault on you, I’ve perceived over time that you are not quite _that_ irrational, but you must understand it was something to be concerned with.”

His cheeks color in a mix of shame and anger, but all of that fades when he see her features soften a second later. Seemingly at odds with her own emotions. He finds it in himself to take a steadying breath, and instead of sharply answering her, allowing Theodosia to continue with her thoughts.

“Then there was the matter of your highly inappropriate latter after Mrs. Eppes wedding. A most shocking affront which, as time has passed, I was able to look beyond,” Theodosia continues, “But you must understand, with all of these pressing factors, it was hard for me to imagine that going forward with a relationship with you would work on in any pleasurable manner for the two of us.”

“And now?”

“And now,” Theodosia repeats.

Her pacing has stopped for a moment, leaving her standing just opposite of Philip. If he reached out now he could pull her towards him, bring his arms up around her in the sort of embrace that would be improper if any other eyes cast upon them. She would likely disapprove, Theodosia was all about social standards and putting on the right face for the right society, but here and now… He imagines stepping forward and kissing her, tasting her sweet soft lips.

Perhaps she would stop him or perhaps-

“And now, Mr. Hamilton, I have to admit that fighting my feelings for you was perhaps one of the gravest mistakes of my life.”

Instinct takes over at the sound of those words.

All of his thoughts for the possibility of wandering eyes fade away as he takes one step closer towards her, and she mirrors the action. When his hand comes up to rest ever so slightly against her cheek, hesitant to speak and break the moment, she takes the initiative that he had lacked, crossing the last few inches between them to press their lips together.

It is soft and hesitant at first, likeTheodosia has never done this before.

While Philip would not consider himself overly experienced he knows a bit more, so he deepens the kiss, ever so slightly intimate enough that when she responds with a breathless but surprised gasp his whole world seems to stop.

Only restarting when she slowly pulls back, hesitance clear in her features, as though he might have disapproved of kissing her.

“Oh,” she says, ever so softly.

“Oh,” he repeats. “So what now?”

“Now, my dearest Philip, we need to return to the ball before anyone has noticed we went missing.”

\---

They manage to make it back in the ball, Theodosia’s hand brushing against his one last time before she slips back into the crowded ballroom. His eyes follow her as she moves through the crowd easy and sure of himself.

He wishes he could have her graces.

While their absence may have gone unnoticed by most of the attendants, his sister was shrewder than that.

“Tell me everything,” she says, cornering him.

“There’s nothing to tell.”

“You know, I can tell when you’re lying to me, Philip, it’s one of my many gifts.”

He does know this.

“I spoke with Miss Burr, that it all.”

“Did you confess your love for her? Did she confess hers to you? Did you ask for her hand in marriage - though I suppose that would be too forward since you haven’t spoken to Mr. Burr yet, but -”

“Angie, you’re getting ahead of yourself.”

His sister merely rolls her eyes at that.

“I am simply looking out for you,” she insists, “Now will you tell me everything or do I have to beg Theodosia for details?”

\---

Having Angie in on their secret courtship turns out to be a blessing, his sister easy to make excuses to have her friend over with her brother as a chaperone, before finding a way to leave the two of them with only each other for company.

In Philip’s opinion it is all working perfectly.

Theodosia disagrees, her lips pouting ever so slightly as the time since the ball passes and their courtship remains something only known between the three of them.

“If you simply spoke to my father.”

“Trust me, Theodosia it is not for lack of wanting to-”

“Then what is it then?”

He supposes that he should’ve expected that question - but admitting to Theodosia that her father _intimidated_ him, admitting that a Hamilton felt that way about a Burr, was something he simply could not do.

So he tries for something that is still partially true, “I wouldn’t know what to say.”

This gets Theodosia to stop her pacing momentarily, she fixes him a look that says she scarcely believes him, before speaking. “In that case, I’ll help you.”

“You’ll help me?”

“Yes,” she nods her head. “Now I have never asked for anyone’s hand in marriage-”

“Neither have I,” Philip points out, but she saves him off.

“-However, I know my father. Thus first you should start of by politely greeting him, repeat after me,” and for this she affronted a caricature of Philip’s voice, “Mr. Burr.”

“Sir.”

Her eye roll was remarkably charming. “I have grown rather fond of your daughter.”

“I love Theodosia, more than life itself,” Philip watches the color rise on her cheeks ever so slightly as he speaks.

“Through my sister’s friendship with her we have had much time to become acquainted with each other.”

“I have found that my love for her is such that my heart cannot bear any distance from her without threatening to burst. Each moment we are apart breaks my heart into the tiniest of pieces.”

“If you would do me the honor of granting me your permission, I would be honored to marry her.”

“I imagine a life with Theodosia, having her eternally by my side, in my heart, and of course, in my bed.”

“Don’t you dare say that last bit,” Theodosia says, affronting a scandalized voice. If she had a fan Philip was certain he would’ve been whacked with it.

“Sorry, wouldn’t want to offend your father’s delicate sensibilities.”

“Oh believe me, he’s not -” She makes a displeased face, “Let’s just say I know far more about my father’s bed partners than any daughter ought to, but I don’t particularly think he will like hearing about _mine_.”

All thoughts of asking Burr for his daughter’s hand get put on hold as a far more interesting topic comes to rise. “Now, you’ve peaked my curiosity, tell me does Mr. Burr remove the stick from his ass before he meets with the ladies, or do they do that for him, or perhaps they even put it up there-”

“Philip!”

“I’m curious is all.”

“Well excuse me if not all of our fathers could go publish their sex scandals for the world to see!”

“Low blow, Theo, low blow.”

\---

“We could elope.”

“We’re not going to elope,” Theodosia tells him, not for the first time.

It’s a sunny day, the park a peaceful escape where two people can pretend the rest of the world doesn’t exist. And pretend he does, each moment seems like a fantasy, and he cannot help but dream that soon this will all be settled.

He imagines taking Theodosia away, hoping in the next carriage and riding until there is nowhere left to ride - marrying her in some quiet garden away from the rest of the world, away from their disapproving families.

“My aunts eloped, both of them, and nobody looked down on them for it.”

“Philip, Burr’s don’t elope.”

“Your father slept with a married woman, whose husband was a British soldier, I don’t see how he can possibly disown you if you _elope_.”

Theodosia pinches the inside of his arm sharply. “It’s just not done in polite society.”

“Polite society is terribly demanding,” Philip says with a grumble.

“I’ve told you before, Philip, and I will tell you again, simply _ask_ my father for permission, and then I will marry you,” Theodosia says, “Please before someone else does?”

“And if someone else did you would say yes?”

His stomach churns with jealousy at the very thought of it.

He expects Theodosia to reassure him that her love for him is strong, as she has countless times before, but this time she simply stops walking. Her face going blank in an instant, before she says - “If he had my father’s approval then I would have no choice.”

 


	14. Chapter Thirteen

He’s walked the familiar path from his home to the Burrs’ house too many times to count, practiced the words in his head until they didn’t even sound like words anymore. Each time stopping just outside the house, imagining Theodosia somewhere on the inside.

In his daydreams he would go into the house and sweep her off her feet, to hell with Burr’s approval. Theodosia would finally agree that eloping was the best option after all and they would ride off into the sunset, find a quiet place by the water to exchange their private vows, kissing with only each other and God for company.

Everything is always so much easier in his head.

None of this complicated talking to people’s fathers, begging for their seal of approval, it would just be the two of them, and that would be enough.

He tears his eyes away from the house, unwilling to step inside, instead heading back down the familiar path to his own home.

Angie finds him when he returns, her lips turning down into a frown as she says, “You’re home early.”

Philip doesn’t bother answering her, they both know where he went and why he returned.

Tomorrow would be better.  

Tomorrow, he would talk to Mr. Burr.

After all, it wasn’t like his situation with Theodosia could change overnight.

\---

Seeing Theodosia in his sitting room is not an uncommon nor unwelcome sight, she and Angie spend plenty of time taking tea and gossiping, that he doesn’t even blink at her presence. That is until he notices the lack of color in her expression, the way her hands shake ever so slightly as she settles down her teacup. Most unnerving of all is the lack of smile on her face, not even the practiced Burr trademark smile adorns her features, instead it is a look of sadness that turns her lips downward.

“Miss Burr,” he says, hesitant voice carrying into the room.

“Mr. Hamilton,” she replies, and now that she speaks he can hear her voice shake ever so slightly.

He’s in the room before he can even fully think the thought through. Crossing to kneel before her so that they are at eye level. Close enough that he can see the tears gathered at the edges of her eyes.

Distantly he is aware of Angie standing up and quietly excusing herself.

“What happened?”

“Mr. Alston came to visit today,” Theodosia says, so softly that Philip can barely hear her.

“Did he hurt you?”

“No - good heavens, no, he-” at this Theodosia looks away from him. “He actually asked me to marry him.”

For a second there is silence, as if all the sound has been sucked out of the room and all that Philip can focus on is the echo of her words. His greatest nightmare suddenly becoming a reality. His very heart seems to stop in his chest, unwilling to go on without her by his side.

“You’re marrying him.”

The words come off of his lips harsher than he had intended, and he can see the flash of hurt in her face, but it is difficult to focus on that when his whole body is rebelling against him, the pain quickly turning into something else.

“It is not as though I have much of a choice,” Theodosia says.

She is crying properly now and if he wasn’t so angry he would focus on that, focus on how clearly this is hurting her.

“I asked you to elope with me,” he points out.

“And I told you to talk to my father. Philip that was all you had to do, one conversation and all of this could have been avoided, but you waited and waited and Mr. Alston did and-” she falls silent to scrub at her cheeks, brushing away the tears that had gathered there. “It’s not too late, technically I haven’t told him yes, yet.”

Philip can’t help the feeling of relief that washes over him at those words.

“You haven’t?”

“No,” she shakes her head, “I said I needed the evening to think about it, and then I came here with the excuse of confiding in Angie, when in reality I wanted to tell _you_. Philip if you go now, go and speak to my father then this could all be settled.”

“And what am I supposed to-”

“Just say something,” she says, desperately, “Anything is better than nothing.”

“Right,” he nods his head, “Of course, I- you should stay here with Angie or-”

“I’ll stay here,” she agrees. Reaching across the space between them to entwine their fingers together, and pull him towards her. He goes willing, resting his head against her shoulder for a moment. “You can do this.”

“I hope so.”

\---

He practices his words on the walk over there, forgoing the speed of a carriage in order to give himself time to organize his thoughts. Many times before he had composed letters written in elegant prose as to put the proper words down in advance, but none of it had felt quite up to the quality that he would need for this conversation.

And now…

Now he had not the proper time to prepare for this meeting.

Such he could not help a feeling of anxiety stirring up inside of him.

What if he got this all horribly wrong? What if Burr did not grant Philip his blessing? What if he had to watch Theodosia marry another man?

None of these were pleasant thoughts.

But just seeing Alston standing there suddenly makes this so much harder. He’s a nice man, even if he is _southern,_ perhaps if Philip didn’t love Theodosia so much he could have seen what a good match they would make, might even let it happen. But the thought of any other man kissing Theodosia, any other man taking her to their bed-

It was as if his entire body was aflame.

Anger boiling in his very veins.

Rash and sudden, and just like that all his carefully constructed words fled from his mind.

“A duel.”

“Pardon,” Alston says, his features drawing up in confusion.

A confusion that is mirrored on Burr’s features.

“I challenge you to a duel, for Theodo- For Miss Burr’s hand.”

He can see the moment where it all clicks. When the confusion on the features before him shift into something else.

“That’s enough of that,” Burr starts to say, ready to defuse the entire situation.

But Alston beats him to it, simply asking Philip, “When?”

“Tomorrow, at dawn.”

“You’re on.”

 


	15. Chapter Fourteen

“Slow down.”

The two words from his father’s lips are enough to give Philip momentary pause. Falling silent in an instant, though he does not stop pacing until his father grabs him by the shoulders to stop him in his place. He can see concern in his father’s features, a look mirrored in his mother’s.

It was rare enough to catch them in the same room and Philip was certain that they had been arguing about something when he interrupted with his own dilemma. Though they put aside whatever that had been to turn their attention to him.

His father’s measured voice grounds him in the moment as he prompts, “Now try again.”

“I challenged Joseph Alston to a duel,” Philip says, taking a deep breath before he continues, “Tomorrow, at dawn.

For a moment there is a silence, then his mother speaks up, “No, you’re not.”

“I have to,” Philip says, turning to look at her. “I’ve already challenged him, there’s no taking that back not if I want to retain my honor.”

“Have you considered retaining your life,” she says and he hates the way her voice trembles ever so slightly. That he is to be the one causing her pain when she has already suffered so much. “Alexander, reason with him.”

“What did this, Mr. Alston, do to offend you? There is still time to make your peace.”

It was at this that Philip had to take his own moment. He frees himself from his father’s grasp to pace down the length of the room. As if that will calm the budding anxiety inside of him, as if now he will be able to explain where he has failed so many times before.

“You know Miss Theodosia Burr?”

“If he said something about her, darling, you should let Mr. Burr settle this matter,” his mother says, “I am certain she would not want you risking your life in her defense.”

“It’s more complicated than that.”

“Philip?”

“I’m in love with her.” Once the words are out there it all seems so much easier. “I have been for quite some while, and I know she feels similar to me, we have spoken of it, privately in our own way. I was simply waiting for the right moment to ask Mr. Burr for his permission to properly court his daughter when this all came up. She doesn’t like Alston, I mean I suppose as a person he might be fine, but she wants to marry me, and I want to marry her and so I have to do this. There is no other options because I love her.”

There is a long silence following this, where his parents seem to be having a silent conversation with nothing more than looks. It is the most in tune he has seen them since the dreaded pamphlet and in spite of everything the sight of it makes his heart clench.

Finally, with one last raise of his mother’s eyebrows, she speaks. “You do realize you you beat Mr. Alston in this duel, Mr. Burr is not obligated to let you marry his daughter.”

Philip hadn’t thought about that but really that was irrelevant. “I’ll challenge all of her suitors then.”

“Alexander - make him less like you.”

“I think it’s too late for that, my love,” his father says. “Though I do have an idea.”

“Why does this worry me?”

\---

 _If he’s truly a man of honor_.

Those had been his father’s words, meant to inspire him, to offer him reassurances for what was to come when the sunrose but Philip did not feel reassured in the slightest. In fact as the sun set and the night arrived he only felt more anxious.

His parents had had a point, spilling blood in the name of his love for Theodosia could only taint their union. She was a woman with delicate sensibilities at time, and in his matter he was certain she would disapprove.

He could only imagine how she must have taken the news arriving home after he had made his call to arms. She was likely furious with him, and he wonders briefly if she will still be if (no, _when_ ) he returns to her tomorrow.

The night seems to stretch on forever, the anticipation slowly eating away at him like a bullet wound not yet delivered.

\---

He supposed he could have predicted this, should have, because Theodosia may have liked to pretend that she could sit idly by and smile like a proper young lady but Philip knew better. It was one of the many reasons he had fallen so hard for her.

Though seeing her, standing in the middle of the dueling ground with her arms crossed over her chest was something new. Her gown was red - an almost _blood_ red - reminding him all too clearly of what he could have lost had she not decided to stand between the two men refusing to let them settle this matter with their pistols.

“I will marry neither of you if this is the way you two intend to act,” Theodosia says, her voice cutting across the space with sharp clarity. All eyes are on her as she speaks, the small crowd gathered to watch them, both of their parents (and his sister who had refused to be left behind) among the crowd. “Are your lives worth so little?”

“Perhaps it is simply your love which is worth so much more,” Philip offers, desperate for Theodosia to see his side of things, but all she does is shoot a stern glare in his direction. Her usually warm eyes as cold and steely towards him as they had been the day she alluded to his foul letter to her in front of his family.

“I demand that you stop this foolishness this instant,” Theodosia says, finally tearing her eyes away from his to look over at where Alston stands on the other side of the dueling ground. “You presume that I would say yes to either of your proposals, that the winner here will have _won_ me, but I am not a prize to be won. Any man that considers as much is not worth my time, let alone my affections.”

“Theodosia,” this time it is Mr. Burr himself who speaks up with the calm measured tones of a practiced politician. “This is and always has been your decision, my opinion and the foolish actions of these men matter little. What you want is all that matters?”

Philip’s heart seems to stop, he may not die on these dueling grounds from a gunshot wound but if she were to turn him aside now, he will wish that he had.

It seems to be an eternity before Theodosia speaks up again, “Mr. Alston is a kind man, he has always shown me respect and valued my opinions in our discussions, and I know our family would benefit immensely from his connections. I could grow to love him, we’re it not for the fact that I already loved another.”

Those words are enough to give him the strength to move forward towards her, falling to his knees in the dirt at her feet.

“Theodosia Burr, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

“All you had to do was ask.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And just the epilogue left, thank you all for reading the story and hanging on this long.


	16. Epilogue

“What if we eloped?”

He knows that she is teasing him, there’s a smile on her lips, her bright eyes filled with hidden mirth. This woman before him, this wonderful woman that was to be his wife in less than a day's time, was teasing him. He was certain of it, just as he was certain that his heart beat only for her. 

Yet, he still held onto a small hope for just a moment that she might mean those words, that she might let him yet steal her away from this city. Take them to a place where they can simply be themselves, with no need to put on performances for others. No need to watch their father’s pretend to be civil. 

“Don’t tease me, my love, it’s unkind,” he tells her. 

“What if I wasn’t teasing?” 

“You are.”

“It’s a hypothetical, Philip, play along,” she rebukes him gently. “What would you do if I wasn’t teasing?”

“I would take you away from here,” he tells her, “In an instant.”

“Where would we go?”

“Anywhere,” Philip replies. “You name the place and I would take you there, my love for you would build us chariots to ascend to the heavens if you so desired it.”

Her laugh when it comes is a beautiful thing to behold. “I am marrying a poet!”

“And a lucky poet, he is.”

Philip would kiss her now, if only he had the chance. 

But there were too many eyes on them, too many people expecting the young couple to be chaste and keep their hands to themselves until after the wedding. Philip is certain that the anticipation might kill him, though Theodosia seems to be handling it better. 

“Let’s do it?”

His mind moves far too quickly, and without even thinking Philip blurts out, “What?”

That earns him another one of Theodosia’s charming laughs, “Let’s elope.”

“I thought you were being hypothetical.” 

“I was, but - this is about us, sitting around waiting for everyone else to give their approval, to pretend to get along for a few minutes just for our sake - it’s all too much,” Theodosia’s voice is so certain when she says, “Philip Hamilton, run away with me.”

She wasn’t fighting fair, she must know that he would give her anything. Philip takes one last look at the people surrounding them, preparing for a wedding that might never happen in their storybook fashion. He almost feels bad, but then he turns to look at Theodosia. She’s the only person that matters in the room, the only person that matters in his life.

“I’ll prepare the carriage.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it, the end! 
> 
> Thank you all so much for reading along and for making this fic writing experience a wonderful one. Extra special thanks to everyone who left comments on the fic, I know I am awful at replying to comments, but let me just say that each one meant the world to me and helped to give me a little burst of inspiration each time I saw them. Also thanks to the people who went over and found me on tumblr, having you come and shout at me in my inbox about all of your feels was just so extra special! Just like *big hugs* for everyone who managed to make it to the end of this story, you are all wonderful and are the reason I keep writing fics. 
> 
> And the biggest thanks every to my beta, friend, and just general life line for this fic the wonderful [Beej](http://roguesquadrcn.tumblr.com/)! Literally I would not have been able to do this without you! Thanks for cleaning up my commas, letting me rant to you about lost plot ideas, reminding me of every character's first names since I'm a ditz, and reminding me that writing an angsty sequel to this would hurt too much and to keep the angst pile to myself. 
> 
> Until next time, this has been, Plinys!

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr @ plinys


End file.
